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AUTHOR: 


ROWAN,  ARTHUR 

BLENNERHASSETT 


TITLE: 


GLEANINGS  AFTER 
"GRAND  TOUR"-ISTS 

PLACE: 

LONDON 

DA  TE : 

1856 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


Master  Negative  # 


BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARGF.T 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


K782 


••iP'lF^^MP^ 


[Rowan,  Arthur  Blennerhassettj 

Gleanings  after  "Grand  tour  "-ists.  -London  [etc.]  Bos- 
worth  &  Harrison  [etc.]  1856. 

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GLEANINGS 


APTER 


"GRAND    TOUR"-ISTS. 


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"  Qui  tecum  cupis  esse  meos  ubicunque  libellos, 
Et  comites  longae  quaeris  habere  viae, 
Hos  eme,  quos  arctat  brevibus  membrana  libellis 
Scrinia  da  magnis,  me  manus  ima  capit." 

Martial,  lib.  i.  ep.  iv. 

You  who  for  Italy  "  en  route'' 
Would  have  a  guide  the  road  to  suit, 
Take  us  your  "  handbooks"  as  you  roam— 
Leave  "  quartos"  on  the  shelf  at  home. 


'^■.  LONDON,,,*  '  '\ 
BOSWORTH  &  HARKISON,  215,.  REGENT  STREET. 
HODGES,  SMITH,  AND-COVAl^rn  iJEOilGE  HERBERT,  DUBLIN 


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DEDICATION. 


TO  A.  M.  T. 

My  d£ab  Sister, 
But  for  you,  the  memories  which  have  furnished  the 
materials  for  this  little  volume  would  never  have  had 
existence ;  to  whom,  then,  can  I  so  fitly  dedicate  it  as 
to  one  who,  having  first  suggested  the  excursion  of 
which  it  is  a  result,  afterwards  contributed  so  largely  to 
the  pleasant  and  successful  accomplishment  of  that  ex- 
cursion ? 

Our  own  Island  Bard,  among  other  "flies  in  amber" 
preserved  in  his  poetry,  has  somewhere  favoured  a  friend 
with  this  not  too  rational  wish — 

"  As  half  in  shade,  and  half  in  sun, 
■  This  world  along  its  path  advances, 

Oh  may  that  side  the  sun's  upon 
Be  all  that  ever  shall  meet  thy  glances." 

The  sentiment  of  this  stanza  has  in  it  more  of  poetic  than 
of  real  good-nature,  affection,  or  good- will ;  the  succes- 
sions of  "  shade  and  sun"  are  part  of  an  economy  adapted 


•f     ! 


If 


DEDICATION. 


to  US  bj  Him  who  "  knoweth  whereof  we  are  made ;"  and, 
being  as  we  are,  if  in  our  course  through  this  world  our 
"  glances"  never  fell  on  aught  but  the  "  side  the  sun's 
upon,"  the  result  would  very  shortly  be  a  tired  and  worn- 
out  optic  nerve,  not  to  mention  other  and  more  fearful 
physical  evils.  What  is  true  of  "  the  earthy  tabernacle" 
is  also  true  of  the  undying  tenant  within.  Morally  as 
well  as  physically,  the  alternations  of  "  shade"  and  "  sun" 
— sweet  and  bitter,  rough  and  smooth— are  in  all  respects 
best  for  us,  most  suitable  and  wholesome ;  in  fact,  essen- 
tial to  our  well-being.  It  was  a  wise  and  Divine  philo- 
sophy which,  long  ago,  taught  a  "living  man"  to  walk 
uncomplaining  in  a  dark  and  thorny  road,  and  to  say, 
"  What !  shall  we  receive  good,  and  shall  we  not  receive 
evil  at  the  hand  of  the  Lord  ?" 

To  carry  out  Moore's  idea :  You  will  remember  how 
curiously  agreeable  we  found  it  to  advance  up  the  length 
of  Italy,  chasing,  as  it  were,  the  summer  with  its  succes- 
sion of  fruits  and  flowers,  before  us,  from  the  strawberries 
of  a  sunny  March  at  Naples,  until  we  found  them  at  the 
edge  of  the  yet  unthawed  snows  of  June  in  the  Upper 
Grisons.  It  was,  in  truth,  a  progress  in  the  sun  in  all  its 
stages,  the  more  agreeable,  doubtless,  that  it  stood  then 
in  its  reality,  as  it  stands  now  in  its  reminiscences,  in 
marked  contrast  to  rough  and  darkly- shadowed  paths,  in 
which  He  who  knows  what  is  best  for  us  had  ordered  our 
goings  for  years  before,  as  well  as  for  years  which  have 


DEDICATION.  y 

come  since.  I  feel  quite  sure,  that  even  though  the  sense 
of  contrast  might  not  have  been  always  present  to  us,  yet 
it  insensibly  contributed  to  heighten  the  enjoyment ;  and 
inasmuch  as  perpetual  "  touring"  would  be  as  insupport- 
able  as  living  in  sun-glare  for  ever,  it  is  best  and  pleasantest 
that  it  should  stand  out  as  an  oasis  of  indulgence,  not  to 
be  met  at  every  stage  of  the  pilgrimage  of  life. 

To  avail  myself  once  more  of  our  poet's  language, 
without  adopting  his  sentiment,  when  he  sings, 

"  As  onward  we  journey,  how  pleasant 
To  pause  and  inhabit  awhile 
The  few  sunny  spots  Uke  the  present, 
Through  life's  dreary  journey  that  smile," 

I  now  invite  you  to  look  over  and  accept  the  dedication 
of  these  "  sunny  memories,"  into  most  of  which  you  will 
enter  largely,  and,  I  hope,  enjoy  them,  as  I  do,  in  recol- 
lection. 

One  more  remark  before  I  have  done.     Having  due 
regard  to  our  responsibilities,  I  should  feel  that  we  had, 
both  and  each,  paid  dearly  for  our  "  sunny  spots"  of 
sojourn  and  progress  in  Italy,  if  there  were  any  fear  that 
our  children  had  taken  hurt  or  taint  from  their  exposure 
to  the  influences  of  that  land  of  gross  yet  seductive  reH- 
gious  delusion.   It  may  seem  like  an  inconsistency  to  caU 
the  same  influences  at  once  '*  gross"  and  «  seductive,"  but 
the  one  epithet  applies  to  the  case  of  the  unfurnished, 
the  other  to  that  of  the  mind  exercised  to  "  distinguish 
between  good  and  evil."    For  neither  young  nor  old  do  I 


VI 


DEDICATION. 


fear  much  danger  of  infection  from  the  "  leprosy  which 
cleaveth  to  the  walls  and  door-posts'*  of  Rome,  except 
where  the  stranger  goes  thither  either  with  "  Romanising 
tendencies"  the  result  of  unwholesome  and  corrupted 
religious  teaching  at  home,  or  where  that  inner  faculty, 
which  should  be  preoccupied  with  the  tenets  of  "the 
true  religion  established  amongst  us,"  has  been  left  a 
"  swept  and  garnished"  vacuum !  In  such  sad  cases, 
inasmuch  as  some  religion  is  a  human  "  necessary  of  life" 
— inasmuch  as  even  a  daring  infidel  was  obliged  to  confess 
that,  "if  there  was  no  God,  one  should  be  invented*^ ! — 
let  the  «7/-provided  or  wwprovided  soul  beware  of  the  in- 
fluences of  Rome ! 

I  have  a  good  hope — and  when  I  say  hope,  I  mean 
assurance — that,  while  neither  of  us  will  probably  ever 
visit  that  "sad,  sunken,"  seductive  land  again,  yet  that 
we  need  not,  either  of  us,  regret  having  seen  with  our 
eyes,  and  shown  to  our  children,  the  beauties  and  de- 
formities, the  glories  and  the  shames,  the  ruins  of  the 
past,  or  the  moral  and  social  ruin  of  the  present,  in  that 
"  sunny  Italy." 

Yours  aifectionately, 


R. 


Januart/j  1856. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER  . 


I.  "  THE  RUN  TO  NAPLES " 


<t 


II.    "  DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS 


III.    "  PCESTUM  OF  roses" 


j> 


IV. 


(( 


CAMPO  SANTO  DI  POVERI 


>j 


V.    "  LAST     IMPRESSIONS  OP  NAPLES — "  FIRST  AND  LAST 

OF  STATES  OF  THE  CHURCH 
VI.    "  SYMBOLISM" — THE  LAVANDA 


„i» 


» 


VII.    "THE    STUARTS" — AND  SOME  OTHER  "  NOTABILIA"   OF 

ST.  Peter's  .... 

VIII.   "  AD  statu  as" — THE  VATICAN  BY  TORCHLIGHT      . 
IX.   A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQUIN,  IN  1851       . 
X.   "  ROMA  SUBTERRANEA" — AD  CATACUMBAS — 
XI.   ROMAN  CHARITIES :    SAN   MICHELE— TRINITA    DEI  PEL- 
LEGRINI    ..... 

xii.  a  passage  in  the  life  of  the  late  czar 
xm.  "  the  inn  of  the  apennines" — "  the  gate  of  bo 
logna" — "the  tudesche" 


PAGE 
1 

17 
26 
50 
71 

85 
110 

129 
145 
159 
175 

201 
224 

231 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


XIV.    VENICE    . 

•  •  •  • 

XV.    "  VOTIVE  TABELLiE"  .... 
XVI.    THE  "  OPENING  OP  THE  PASS"— TO  CHIAVENNA 
XVII.   THE  "OPENING  OP  THE  PASS"— TO  SPLUGHEN 
XVIII.   THE  RIGHI — "  THE  EVENING" 
XIX.   THE  RIGHI — "  THE  MORNING" 

XX.   "  TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN" 

*  •  • 

l'envoi        ... 


APPENDIX 


PAGE 

.  245 

.  268 

.  286 

.  313 

.  335 

.  355 

.  374 

.  384 

.  399 


GLEANINGS 


AFTER 


"GRAND  TOUR"-ISTS. 


INTEODUCTOET  CHAPTEE. 


I  WAS  lounging  away  the  "sultry  noon"  of  a  summer's 

day  with  an  Italian  acquaintance  in  the  arcaded  courts  of 

The  Qu,rinal,"  once  the  busiest,  now  the  coolest  and 

most  secluded  spot  in  Eome  for  a  "  saincteterre,"  *  when 

my  companion,  turning  to  me,  abruptly  asked— 

"  Do  you  keep  a  journal  ?" 

on  the  25th  of  Nov  mb^  1848  di^^  ^  ''  """  ^'°  ^°™  ^^* 

others  more  co^^tlv  affirm  -I    T""''.^"'  «ay  as  a  domestic,  but 

direct  to  the  V»t,v.„    V  ■  ^.         **'"'  ""^  "P""  '>>«  "-etum,  drove 

that  pala  fto  SdelTit''r""r'f  k'"'"  '"'  "^"^"^  -^  f™» 
has  never  siMe  a,  !  h!,       !    ,^^!'° '°  ^^  '^P»'«''  i  «■"!  ^s  Holiness 

ba^one™ '         '  ^'"^"^  "'"' '"""  """^  ««  P^t'^'ion  of  French 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GBAND  T0TJR"-ISTS. 


The  question  was  "  a  propos  de  rien.'^'*  It  had,  so  to 
speak,  no  concatenation,  except,  perliaps,  with  an  inner 
train  of  thought  suggested  to  the  mind  of  the  querist  by 
some  observation  of  mine,  which  led  him  to  imagine  that 
I  was  looking  more  closely  and  deeply  into  the  moral  and 
social  state  of  Rome  than  he  had  supposed. 

Before  I  proceed  to  give  the  answer  returned  at  the 
time,  or  to  expand  it  into  an  explanation  of  the  origin  of 
these  "  Gleanings,"  I  must,  in  few  words,  present  the 
querist  to  my  readers,  as  the  type  of  a  section  of  that 
large  dominant  class — the  Eoman  clergy.  If  a  shade  or 
two  of  mystery  shall  appear  to  rest  upon  this  personage, 
such  as  I  have  been  able  to  catch  and  preserve  his  linea- 
ments, it  is  not  my  fault,  and  they  will  give,  perhaps,  not 
the  least  characteristic  finish  to  a  picture  in  which  I  do 
not  wish  to  distort  or  exaggerate  a  single  feature. 

An  acute  friend,  long  domiciled  at  Rome,  had  told  me 
that  the  Eoman  clergy  were  generally  very  marked  in 
their  attentions  to  the  English  stranger  on  first  arrival, 
especially  in  any  case  considered  "hopeful" — in  other 
words,  where  the  visitor  was  believed  to  be  disposed  to 
"go  to  Rome"  in  soul  as  well  as  in  " bodily  presence." 
In  such  case  attentions  were  varied  and  unceasing,  and 
most  ingeniously  adapted  to  the  bias  or  temperament  of 
the  "  hopeful  subject."  If,  however,  after  a  certain  time, 
and  beyond  a  certain  point,  no  "  report  of  progress,"  or 
of  "  developing  Romanism,"  could  be  made,  these  atten- 
tions were  liable  to  slacken,  and  finally  to  subside  into 
neglect.  "These  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "seldom  bestow 
a  civility  without  a  meaning  and  object." 

On  my  arrival  in  Rome,  in  the  spring  of  1851,  I  had 


i. 


INTEODUCTOET  CHAPTEE.  •  « 

found  prepared  for  me  an  advantage  reiy  valuable  to  a 
person  whose  proposed  stay  was  limited  to  a  month  or 
two :  I  became  domicUed  with  a  relative  who  had  spent  the 
previous  winter  there,  and  found  in  her  circle  a  number 
of  ready-made  acquaintance  quite  as  large  as  I  desired 
Among  others  who  had  the  entree  of  her  house  was  my 

sauntermg  friend  of  the  Quirinal,  Monsignor  Z . 

This  had  been  accorded  to  him  at  his  own  request,  and 
through  the  intervention  of  an  English  lady,  who  repre- 
sented  him  as  a  «  most  social  .olUairer  fond  of  conversa- 
tion, and  specially  attracted  by  that  "home"  unreserve  of 
English  domestic  life  for  which  Boman  habits  have  no 
counterpart.     He  asked  an  introduction  and  permission 
to  visit,  which  being  accorded,  he  became  most  inde- 
fatigable in  obtaining  "  Chamberlain  tickets,"  informa- 
tion as  to  where  and  when  "funzioni"  were  to  «  come 
off,"  and  m  procuring  those  other  facilities  to  the  sights 
and  shows  of  Eome  which  are  very  useful  and  agreeable 
to  the  stranger.     Thus  I  found  him  quite  familiar  in  the 
household,   paying  his  uninvited  visits    (more  Romano) 
generally  in  the  evening,  about  tea-time,  when  he  would 
glide  m  m  the  gloaming;  and,  though  we  could  never  in- 
duce him  to  partake  of  that  national  cup  which  "  cheers 
but  not  inebriates,"  the  tU  Anglak,  he  usually  con- 
trived to  sit,  m   such  broken   conversation  as  his  bad 
French  and  our  worse  Italian  enabled  us  to  carry  on 
until  bed-time.  ' 

mat  is  a  Monsignor?  Can  any  one  define  a  "Pre- 
latif  It  is  not  a  bishop,  though  it  sounds  so  like  it; 
and,  m  fact,  I  never  could  obtain  any  exact  explanation 
as  to  the  status  or  privileges  of  this  peculiar  appendage  to 

b2 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


the  Court  of  Eome.     Sometimes  the  title  appeared  to 
belong  to  persons  in  high  and  influential  position,  some- 
times to  men  of  no  mark  or  importance  whatever.     "  Gli 
MonsignorV^  were  occasionally  spoken   of  as   the   mere 
fribbles  and  butterflies  who  lounged  (like  artists*  models) 
on  the  Scala  Eegia,  or  flitted  through  the  labyrinthine 
passages  of  the  Vatican;  then,  again,  it  would  be  an- 
nounced that  "  Monsignor  X.  T.  Z.  (as  the  case  might  be) 
had  been  entrusted  with  a  mission  of  the  utmost  moment 
to  the  interests  of  the  Holy  See."     After  the  best  consi- 
deration I  can  give  the  subject,  it  occurs  to  me  that  the 
title  of  Monsignor  may  be  taken  to  correspond  to  the 
"  Right  Honourable"  of  our  Privy  Councillor — a  distinc- 
tion which  the  merest  red-tapist  of  routine  may  wriggle 
himself  into  sharing,  with  "  the  Atlas  of  the  Senate  and  the 
State."    It  was  borne  by  Pitt  and  Fox,  as  by  the  "  Tapers 
and  Tadpoles'*  of  their  day.    It  puts  a  man  upon  a  certain 
elevation,  where  personal  ability  and  influence  must  deter- 
mine his  real  importance  or — nothingness  !  afterwards. 

Our  friend  was  a — Monsignor !  and  a  "  Segretario,**  and 
nothing  could  be  more  apparently  frank,  unaffected,  and 
natural  than  his  account  of  how  he  became  so ;  he  gave 
it,  in  fact,  as  the  history  of  a  large  class  of  the  fast-de- 
caying nobility  of  Eome : 

"  I  am,'*  he  said,  "  a  Noble,  but  a  poor  one  {Nohile,  ma 
senza  dotte).  I  hear  that  you  *  Inglese'  have  pursuits  which 
you  call  *  liberal  and  learned;'  here  we  have  no  such 
thing. — To  be  an  ^  avocato,'  a  *  medico,'  is  to  leave  your 
grade  to  become  a  dependant  {seguace\  to  reckon  for  no 
more  than  a  domestic  (aervo  di  casd). — There  is  no  road  for 
the  poor  noble  in  life  but  the  army  for  the  few,  the 


INTEODUCTOEY  CHAPTEE.  5 

church  for  the  many;  ^o  I  am  a  cleric,  with  no  taste  for 
It  {clerico  senza  vocatione)  ,^l  have  never  demanded  fa- 
culties.* I  have  my  calHng,  because  I  must;  I  hope  I 
do  not  disgrace  it,  but  that  is  all." 

This  was  an  early  and  volunteered  communication,  and 
It  was  in  the  same  spirit  of  seeming  candour  that  upon 
my  subsequently  mentioning  to  him  how  I  had  noted, 
among  the  long  train  of  candidates  admitted  to  the  priest-' 
hood  in  St.  John  Lateran  on  Easter  Saturday,  more  than 
one  distinguished  by  armorial  bearings  worked  into  his 
costly  vestments — 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "these  were  'nobHi  poveri,*  most  of 
them  probably  *  ecclesiastici  di  necessita;  as  myself.'*  And 
then  he  added,  "  Who  can  teU  how  many  a  sore  heart  beats 
under  such  a  robe  to-day  ?"— a  remark  which,  "  by  the 
way,"  was  echoed  soon  after  by  a  lady  who  knew  Eome 
long  and  thoroughly,  so  that  it  would  seem  as  if  the  ''dwra 
pauperies''  which  thus  sentenced  the  scions  of  Eoman 
nobHity,  as  a  class,  to  the  priesthood,  was  an  understood 
and  recognised  necessity  of  Eoman  Kfe. 
With  such  antecedents,  one  would  have  been  prepared 

*  The  attributes  of  the  priesthood  are  made  inherent  at  ordination, 
but  their  exercise  depends  on  the  granting  of  "faculties,"  these  beings 
Bomething  tantamount  to  the  "  Bishop's  license"  to  officiate  in  his  diocese 
A  tale  of  cruelty  of  the  Revolution  of  1848  reminds  me  that  it  might  be 
more  correct  to  say  that  the  sacerdotal  attributes  are  held  to  be  adherent 
rather  than  mherent.     Ugo  Bassi,  a  Barnabite  priest  of  Bologna,  having 
jomed  the  MUanese  revolt,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Austrians.     Roman 
canon  law  holds  the  priesthood  inviolate  from  the  hands  of  the  laity,  and 
yet  Ugo  Bassi  must  die!     But  how?     The  Inquisition  solved  the  diffi- 
culty-" they  skinned  the  palms,  forefingers,  and  thumbs  of  both  hands:^  and 
pretending  thus  to  have  divested  him  of  his  sacred  character,  delivered 
hun  to  the  Austrians.     He  walked  to  the  side  of  a  prepared  hole,  and 

liftmg  his  eyes  to  heaven,  said,  "  Viva  Gesuf—Viva  LVta "       ix 

balls  silenced  him,  and  he  fell  into  his  open  grave ! 


6 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


to  find  in  our  ^^  ecclesiastico  di  necessitd'*  more  of  the 
agreeable  gossip  of  an  every-day  acquaintance,  than  of 
the  erudition  of  a  deep-read  theologian ;  but  I  was  not 
prepared  for  the  blank  ignorance  (real  or  assumed)  with 
which  our  acquaintance  met  some  advances  towards  dis- 
cussion of  subjects,  which  might  form  a  topic  between  a 
Eoman  ecclesiastic  and  an  inquiring  stranger.  I  re- 
member upon  one  occasion  I  was  led  to  produce  a  Greek 
Testament,  in  order  to  settle  some  question  which  arose 
in  course  of  conversation.  "  Our  Monsignor  "  took  the 
volume,  examined  it,  turned  over  its  leaves,  and  seemed  to 
try  to  make  out  a  few  words,  much  as  one  might  attempt 
the  hieroglyphics  of  an  Egyptian  papyrus !  Upon  another 
occasion,  something  drew  on  a  reference  to  the  "  Creed  of 
Pius  IV.,"  and  by  no  periphrasis  I  could  use  in  our 
triglot  medium  of  intercourse,  neither  in  French,  Italian, 
nor  Latin,  neither  by  reference  to  the  Pontiif  after  whom 
it  is  named,  nor  to  the  council  hi/  which  it  was  framed, 
could  I  bring  Monsignor  Z to  acknowledge  any  ac- 
quaintance with  this  symbol,  or  that  he  had  ever  before 
heard  of  such  a  formula  of  his  church.  At  length  a  lady 
who  sat  listening  to  our  attempts  to  elucidate  the  matter, 
passed  to  me  over  the  table  a  pencilled  slip  of  paper  with 
these  words : — "  It  is  very  clear  that  he  must  know  all 
about  it  perfectly  well ;  but  equally  clear  that  he  does  not 
intend  to  go  further  into  the  discussion" — 

It  may  be  asked  why  I  should  speak  of  this  frankness 
of  our  Italian  friend  as  but  "seeming,"  and  of  his  igno- 
rance as  "  assumed,"  and  of  all  as  possibly  covering  close 
observation  and  deep  purpose  towards  those  around  him  ? 
There  are  a  few  incidents  which,  on  retrospect,  throw  a 


introductoey  chaptee.  7 

shade  of  suspicion  upon  this  gentleman's  movements  in 
our  regard,  in  noticing  which,  if  I  do  him  any  wrong,  I 
am  heartily  sorry,  but  I  must  speak  of  things  as  I  seem  to 
have  found  them. 

I  had  not  been  many  days  in  Eome  when,  without  any 

previous  discussion  between  us,  Monsignor  Z was  so 

kind  as  to  send  me,  by  the  lady  to  whom  we  owed  his  ac- 
quaintance, a  book  which  he  commended,  with  his  respects, 
to  my  attention.  Upon  opening,  I  found  it  a  work  of  un- 
mistakable controversy,  purporting  to  be  a  reply  to  some 
publication  of  the  late  Bishop  Luscombe,  of  Paris,  of  which 
I  had  never  previously  heard.  Now,  as  I  really  had  not 
come  to  Rome  to  engage  in  controversy,  nor  on  running 
through  the  book  did  I  see  anything  out  of  that  ordinary 
line  of  argument  on  points  at  issue  between  the  churches 
with  which  I  had  long  been  familiar,  I  therefore  (placing 
between  the  leaves  a  few  notes  in  Latin  on  some  conclu- 
sions which  I  thought  obviously  erroneous  or  self-contra- 
dictory) returned  the  volume  with  thanks,  and  a  remark, 
that  while  it  did  not  appear  to  me  to  contain  anything 
new  or  convincing,  my  stay  at  Eome  would  be  too  short 
to  allow  of  my  studying  it  more  closely.      Monsignor 

Z ,  though  he  would  sometimes  treat  me  to  long 

and  not  very  pertinent  explanations  or  excuses  for  some 
'' grossierete''  in  the  usages  of  his  church,  never  after  ap- 
proached me  with  any  direct  provocation  to  discussion ; 
and  this  little  episode  would  scarce  be  worth  notice  if  it 
did  not  become  significant  when  connected  with  the  intel- 
ligence which  reached  us  soon  after  our  departure  from 
Eome,  that  the  lady  through  whom  he  had  sent  the 
volume,  and  whom  we  had  left  in  that  city  a  professing 


8 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GKAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


member  of  the  English  Church,  had  soon  after  rewarded 
the  labours  of  Monsignor  Z by  giving  in  her  adhe- 
sion to  the  Church  of  Eome,  under  the  auspices  of  that 
"  Eeceiver-General  of  straying  English,"  Monsignor  Tal- 
bot—one  of  the  chamberlains  of  his  Holiness. 

Another  slight  fact,  which  has  somewhat  impaired  my 
exercise  of  the  grace  which  "thinketh  no  evil"  in  our 
friend's  regard,  is  this.     On  leaving  home  I  had  desired 
that  the  Spectator  newspaper  (as  giving  an   admirable 
weekly  resume  of  things  in  general)  should  be  duly  for- 
warded to  me.     One  evening  it  lay  on  the  table,  and 
Monsignor  Z ,  taking  it  up,  made  some  playful  at- 
tempts to  pronounce  the  English  words,  and  then,  turning 
to  the  final  page  of  advertisements,  asked  "  what  that 
meant  ?"     I  endeavoured  to  explain  our  system  of  adver- 
tising, and,  as  an  illustration,  pointed  out,  as  subjects 
which  might  interest  him,  the  announcements  of  "  Ni- 
cholini's  Pontificate  of  Leo  X.,"  and  "  Gladstone's  Trans- 
lation  of  Earini,"  just  then  published.    He  seemed  to  take 
but  slight  notice  at  the  time,  but  among  the  Eoman  news 
which  reached  us  in  our  further  progress  through  Italy 
was  a  rumour  that  the  ''Spectator  newspaper  had  been  pro- 
hibited at  Eome."     Now,  I  may  wrong  our  friend,  but  it 
seems  to  me  not  impossible  that  this  absurd  restriction 
may  have  originated  in  some  report  made  by  Monsignor 
Z to  the  "  Congregation  of  the  Index"  of  the  "gun- 
powder-looking advertisements"  to  which  I  had  called  his 
attention. 

Our  Monsignor  having  refused  my  lead  into  Greek- 
seemed  to  me  to  fall  back  on  his  reserves,  in  the  shape  of 
a  Professor  of  the  "  Collegio  Eomano,"  who  was  also  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  and  enthusiastic  antiquarians  in 


INTRODUCTOEY  CHAPTER.  9 

Eome.  In  a  few  days  after  the  Greek  Testament  incident 
I  found  upon  my  table  a  note,  of  which  the  foUowing  is  a 
copy: 


rh.  if  77  ""^^«^^'«  "^^^"-6  I'ottimo  Signor  R e  gli  fa  sapere 

Che  11  Padre  — -,  Gesuita,  I'aspetta  dimani,  alle  10,  nel  Collegio  Romano 
per  mostrargh  alcune  beUe  iscrizioni  lapidarie  ed  altri  interresfanti  ogget? 

^1  7i/'*''''  "^"  ^^'  ^"*  rappuntamento  per  andare  aUa  Catacombe 
pnraa  della  sua  partenza. 

"  Lo  scrivente  forse  si  fara  trovare  Ik  per  avere  U  bene  di  vederlo." 

In  this  good-natured  invitation,  which  sounds  wonder- 
fully  like  the  device  by  which  children  are  coaxed  to  school 
with  a  promise  of  "showing  them  pretty  things,"  most  of 
my  female  friends  seemed  to  see  danger.    They  pointed  to 
the  word  "  Oesuita''  as  the  barb  of  the  hook  under  that 
bait  of  ^'lapidarian  inscriptions"  for  which  my  appetite, 
not  to  say  weakness,  was  notorious  ;   they  shook  their 
heads  at  the  idea  of  my  descending  into  the  Catacombs, 
with  a  Jesuit  for  my  guide !  and  I  was  solemnly  warned 
that  « I  had  better  keep  away."     However,  I  went— I 
felt  as  if  I  could  not,  with  any  propriety,  owe  my  safety 
from  being  over-argued,  to  an  inglorious  caution,  and  there- 
fore, entering  the  lion's  den  of  the  Collegio  Eomano,  I 
found  «I1  Padre  Gesuita,"  what  I  believe  the  Jesuits  are 
universally  found  to  be,  a  most  courteous,  obliging,  and 
inteUigent  cicerone  through  their  recherche  museum,  where 
he  often  left  me  for  hours  to  "feed  me  full"  with  ''oggetti 
inter essanti;'  while  his  avocations  called  him  elsewhere. 
Our  talk  was  mostly  of  stones  and  inscriptions ;  but  when 

once  or  twice  (Monsignor  Z being  present)  it  verged 

towards  points  at  issue  between  the  churches,  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  interest  and  anxiety  with  which  the 
listener  watched  the  eff'ect  of  the  professor's  arguments 


I 


10 


<( 


>» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


upon  me.  He  seemed,  however,  soon  to  tire  of  standing 
bj,  and  to  leave  me  altogether  in  the  Jesuit's  hands.  How 
I  fared  in  argument  is  not  for  me  to  say.  I  do  not  feel  as 
if  I  had  taken  any  hurt  in  faith  or  convictions  from  the 
intercourse.  "Whether  it  was  that  the  "  little  liking"  vdth 
which  I  began  my  acquaintance  with  Romanism  at  head- 
quarters "  decreased  on  further  acquaintance,"  or  that 
"  II  Padre"  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  put  forth  his 
power  of  argument  against  an  impassible  and  "  invincibly- 
ignorant"  subject,  or  whether  (as  I  believe)  the  power  of 
argument  to  put  forth  was  lacking,  I  certainly  came  away 
unimpressed  by  anything  in  the  Jesuit  College,  except  by 
a  sense  of  that  marvellous  completeness  of  organisation, 
based  upon  the  uninquiring  obedience  of  the  members, 
with  which  the  Jesuit  order  is  regulated,  and  through 
which  it  seeks  to  rule  the  world.  I  gained,  moreover,  free 
and  frequent  admission  to  objects  of  interest,  which  would 
have  been  otherwise  inaccessible.  One  conversation  with 
my  Jesuit  friend,  too  long  to  insert  here,  I  place  in  the 
Appendix,*  as  a  specimen  of  many. 

But  to  return  to  our  Monsignor,  and  to  finish  his  por- 
trait with  a  feature  of  character  not  the  least  curious.  He 
was  by  birth  a  noble — by  calling  a  priest — by  occupation  an 
attache  of  the  Papal  court — and,  in  virtue  of  all  combined, 
an  ultramontane  absolutist  in  sentiment;  but — beyond 
and  above  all — he  was  Eoman  in  heart  and  feeling,  and 
something  of  the  high  spirit  of  the  old  "popultis  Bomanus  " 
would  occasionally  show  through  every  hinderance.    There 

were  circumstances  and  connexions  in  Monsignor  Z 's 

case  which  I  need  not  particularise,  but  which  must  have 
cut  him  off  from  any  sympathy  with  the  late  popular  move- 

*  See  Appendix,  No.  I. 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER. 


11 


ment  of  his  countrymen :  he  could  not  with  safety  have 
remained  in  the  city  from  the  moment  that  Pio  Nono 
passed  to  Gaeta;  he  could  only  have  returned  thither 
under  the  protection  of  the  Prench  bayonets,  and  neither 
the  court  atmosphere  he  breathed  nor  "the  craft  whereby 
he  got  his  living"  could  have  survived  their  withdrawal 
many  hours ;  and  yet,  in  despite  of  all  this,  the  Eoman 
soul  within  him  was  obviously  chafed  and  galled  by  the 
presence  of— the  stranger !     And  it  was  most  curious  to 
observe  the  manifestations  of  this  feeling  pervading  all 
his  sentiments  and  ways :  he  would  turn  aside  from  his 
direct  course  if  he  heard  the   measured  tramp  of  the 
French  regiments,  as  they  defiled  to  their  daily  parade 
through  the  "Piazza  di  Spagna;"  his   descriptions  and 
illustrations  of  the  evils  which  the  Eepublican  inter- 
regnum had  inflicted  on  Eome  would  mingle  strangely 
with  his  proud  assertions  of  the  heroic  enthusiasm  with 
which  the  Trastavere  had  withstood  the  assault  of  the 
French ;  it  was  amusing  to  hear  the  Pope's  Segretario 
enlarging  on  the  certainty  that  Garibaldi  and  his  Eomans 
would  have  annihilated  the  Neapolitans,  if,  in  their  cru- 
sading zeal  in  favour  of  his  master,  these  last  had  bided 
the  encounter  beyond  Albano.     It  was  only  the  evening 
before  we  left  Eome  that,  inquiring  from  him  the  parti- 
culars of  a  late  conflict  between  the  French  garrison  and 
some  of  the  Papal  troops,  he  made  light  of  it;  "a  mere 
tavern  brawl "— "  politically  nothing,"  he  said ;  but  that  it 
arose  out  of  personal  affronts  which  the  Eoman  soldiery 
could  not  endure.     "  Ces  messieurs  had  called  his  Holi- 
ness' forces  « Eaiights  of  the  Smock !'  *  Ceremony-Soldiers,' 
*  Champions  of  the  Virgm,'  and  this  was  an  i^i^^fr^I 
'  our  braves'  would  not  endure,  for  there  ar<v^\i;aver 


O^ 


^'■ 


^. 


UNION      "^ 


I' 


12 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GBAND-T0UE"-ISTS. 


men  in  the  world  than  the  Eomans — no,  none,  none  !*'  It 
was  rather  amusing  to  listen  to  the  Roman  churchman 
repudiating  as  an  insult  the  appellation  of  "  Soldiers  of 
the  Virgin"  at  a  period  when  his  head  and  ruler  was  pre- 
paring to  declare  her  "  Oeneralissima  "  of  the  armies  of 
"  the  faithful"  throughout  the  world. 

Such  was  the  "Monsignor" —  who,  turning  sharply  to 
me  as  we  paced  the  courts  of  the  Quirinal,  asked : 
"  Do  jou  keep  a  journal  ?" 

Journal-keeping  I  hold  to  be  a  serious,  cold-blooded 
affair,  generally  perpetrated  of  late  years  by  sitting  down, 
and  in  deliberate  plagiarism  transcribing  "Murray"  by 
wholesale.  I  was  able  with  clear  conscience  to  repudiate 
this  enormity,  and  to  say  that  "  I  did  not  keep  a  journal." 
Had  the  querist,  however,  been  aware  of  poor  Robert 
Bums'  warning  against  ''the  chiel  taking  notes,''  and  had 
he  asked  me,  further,  whether  I  ever  jotted  down  my 
reflections  on  "  men,  and  things  about  me  ?"  I  could  not 
Lave  returned  so  direct  a  negative. 

For  the  truth  of  the  matter  was,  that  in  coming  to 
Italy  I  had,  upon  the  "  departmental  principle  of  division 
of  labour,"  assigned  journal-keeping  —  meaning  thereby 
diurnal  entries  of  places,  persons,  galleries,  churches, 
palaces,  pictures,  and  so  forth — to  my  two  daughters,  as 
an  excellent  exercise,  in  which  they  might  learn  how  to  • 
exercise  their  faculties,  condense  expression,  and  "  write  a 
good  current  hand."--They  each  possess  a  "  lock-and-key 
volume,"  upon  which  I  can  draw  whenever  names  and 
places  become  confused  in  my  endeavours  to  recal  them. 
A  comparison  to  an  old  "sticket  stibbler"  may  not  be 
very  flattering  to  two  young  ladies  fairly  gifted  with  the 


INTEOnUCTOET  CHAPTEE. 


13 


use  of  their  tongues ;  but  whenever  I  look  up  from  writing, 
as  I  often  do,  and  appeal  to  them  for  a  date  or  name,  I 
am  irresistibly  reminded  of  Dominie  Sampson's  utility 'to 
Colonel  Mannering,  to  whom  he  served  for  aU  the  pur- 
poses of  "a  literary  dumb-waiter." 

My  own  preparation  for  acting  upon  Captain  Cuttle's 
admirable  axiom,   "when  found  make  a  note  ofV   was 
briefly  this :  Among  my  books  had  long  lain  a  small  shabby 
volume,  "imprinted  at  Amsterdam,  1687,"  and  containing 
the  letters  of  "  Gilbert  Burnet,  D.D.,"  addressed  to  the 
"  Honourable  Robert  Boyle,"  while  he  was  running  over 
Europe  to  avoid  the  **  bloodhound  quest  of  his  unkind 
and  unkingly  liege  lord,  James  the  Second  of  England," 
to  whom  it  was  bitterly  said,  that  "  it  might  be  in  Ms 
power  to  pardon,  but  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  forgive,  an 
offence.' '   It  seems  strange  enough  that  these  letters  sh  Juld 
have  been  written  while  Burnet  was  shifting  from  France  to 
seek  shelter  at  Rome,  until  the  tyranny  in  which  Louis  the 
Fourteenth  was  trying  to  "  put  an  end  to  the  business  of 
the  Huguenots,"  should  be  overpast.— It  was  a  bold  step 
for  the  Historian  of  the  "  EngHsh  Reformation"  (with  the 
vote  of  thanks  of  the  English  Parliament  for  his  work  in 
his  pocket)  thus  to  "beard  the  lion  in  his  den"— the 
Pope  in  his  own  "  Q\ij  of  the  Seven  x:iUs"~and  this  in  a 
crisis  of  such  excitement!    But  the  act  was  in  perfect 
keeping  with  that  forward  boldness  of  temperament  which 
qualified  Gilbert  Burnet  to  become  one  of  the  guiding 
spirits  of  the  impending  "Revolution,"  a  quality  which 
even  Dryden— in  his  bitter  satire  on  "  the  Buzzard  Captain 
of  the  test"*-.is  forced  to  own,  though  he  turns  it  into 


a  vice  ; 


*  Dryden's  "Hind  and  Panther.' 


14 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  T0UE"-I8TS. 


"  Prompt  to  assail,  and  careless  of  defence, 
Invulnerable  in  his  impudence ; 
He  dares  the  world,  and  eager  of  a  name, 
He  thrusts  about,  and  justles  into  fame." 

I  am  no  admirer  of  Burnet's  style;  it  is  often  hard, 
stiff,  and,  if  not  absolutely  incorrect,  so  grotesquely  un- 
couth, as  to  justify  the  stinging  sarcasm  in  which  Swift 
affirmed  that  he  made  "  a  mistake  in  thinhing  that  he 
tcrote  English  !  "*  Still,  with  all  his  faults  (estimating  as  I 
think  I  do  at  their  full  value  all  the  spiteful  ebullitions  in 
which  Jacobites  and  High  Churchmen  of  earlier  and  later 
growth  have  unconsciously  testified  to  the  services  ren- 
dered by  Burnet  in  a  great  crisis  of  the  destinies  of  our 
country),  I  hope  I  do  justice  to  the  thorough  earnestness 
of  his  character,  the  acuteness  of  his  observation ;  nor  do 
I  at  all  regret  having  put  my  "  Burnet's  Letters"  into 
travelling  costume,  by  rebinding  with  sheets  (wherein  to 
''make  a  note'')  intei'  .  "•  I  found  him  an  excellent 
guide  through  the  realms  of  the  Papacy,  at  a  crisis  which 
seems  likely  to  come  next  in  historic  importance  to 
Burnet's  "own  times" — I  mean  that  of  the  "  aggression 
excitement  of  1851." 

An  "  interlea/ved  Burnet,"  then,  as  the  only  "journal " 

"  diary  "—or  "  remembrancer"  which  I  took  with  me  in  a 
passage  up  the  length  of  Italy,  is  the  germ  from  whence 
these  "  Gleanings"  have  grown  and  been  gathered.  Going 
over  much  of  his  ground,  and  looking  at  most  matters  with 
much  of  his  mind,  I  was  enabled  to  verify  by  observation 

*  The  stinging  severity  of  Swift's  "  Marginalia"  on  "  Burnet's  Own 
Tunes"  is  well  known.  When  Burnet  spoke  of  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost" 
as  "  the  beautifullest  and  perfectest  poem  that  ever  was  writ,  at  least  in 
our  language"— Swift's  note  was—"  A  mistake  !  for  it  is  in  English  r 


INTEODUCTOHT  CHAPTER. 


15 


what  I  had  often  heard  asserted,  as  to  the  " stand-still'* 
state  of  a  country  in  which  the  Guide  Book  of  one  or  two 
hundred  years  ago  is  not  out  of  date  to-day.   It  is  surprising 
how  little  of  the  progress  or  development  of  the  rest  of 
Europe  has  yet  reaxjhed  the  Bioni  of  the  South.     Eich  in 
recoUections,  poor  in  all  present  energy  or  hope,  Italy 
seems  (I  must  proclaim  my  country  at  once  by  an  Mber- 
nicism)  to  be,  "  advancing  backwards  !"     It  would  appear 
as  if  it  was  the  destiny  of  that  fair  land  to  stand  out  in 
contrast  and  warning  to  the  civilised  world,  furnishing  a 
"morbid  specimen"  of  the  social  evHs  inevitable  from  cer- 
tain forms  of  government ;  or,  to  vary  the  illustration :  the 
situation  of  Italy  may  be  likened  to  that  of  a  ship  ashore, 
holding  together  by  the  strength  of  her  timbers,  but  un' 
able  to  float  or  make  sail,  because  her  officers  are  incom- 
petent,  her  crew  disorganised,  and  incapable  of  that  "  long 
pull,"  that "  strong  pull,"  and  "puU  altogether,"  which  is 
her  great  necessity  and  the  dream  of  her  unpractical 
patriots. 

While  I  write,  events  may  confound  my  speculations,  but 
it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  land  of  the  great  Eepublics  of  the 
middle  ages  did  not  contain  elements  capable  of  that  real 
combination  for  which  the  circumstances  of  the  country 
seem  to  call.     Looking  at  all  the  antecedents  and  recoUec- 
tions of  Florence  and  Genoa,  Bologna  and  MHan,  Venice 
and  Ferrara,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  theory  of  an  "  united 
Italy"  were  not  more  practicable  than  the  delusions  of 
"Socialism,"  or  the  swindle  of  "L'Acadie;"  and  yet! 
when  the  European  changes  of  the  last  half-century  pass 
in  review  before  us,  we  must  feel  it   rash  indeed  to 
pronounce  absolutely  "what  may  not  happen  on  the 
morrow." 


16 


>» 


OLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


It  will  easily  be  seen,  by  reference  to  the  titles  of  my 
desultory  chapters,  that  I  make  no  pretension  to  putting 
forth  a  "  Book  on  Italy ;"  indeed,  in  the  present  relative 
state  of  supply  and  demand  in  this  article,  it  would  evince 
a  superabundance  of  material,  a  great  deficiency  of  discern- 
ment or  modesty,  or  a  great  combination  of  both,  to  offer 
any  such  production  to  the  public.  May  I  also  be  per- 
mitted to  say,  that  though  I  cannot  pretend  to  avoid  going 
over  "beaten  ground"  in  my  remarks  (for,  in  fact,  there 
is  little  choice  of  route  in  Italy),  yet  I  have  endeavoured 
to  avoid  topics  upon  which  "  better  things  than  I  could 
say,  have  been  said  by  better  men  before  me,"  and  to 
eschew  that  catalogue  style  of  description  which  is  an 
intrusion  upon  the  topics  of  the  Guide  Book,  and  which 
the  professed  "  Hand-book  compiler"  generally  executes 
with  much  more  accuracy  and  intelligence  than  the  ama- 
teur poacher  on  his  preserves.  Therefore,  for  the  contents 
of  the  "  galleria,"  the  "  gold  and  marble  of  the  churches," 
&c.,  &c.,  I  beg  to  say — vide  "  Murray"  passim. 

It  may  further  be  fit  to  state,  that  having  thought  it  pru- 
dent to  try  my  "  'prentice  hand"  at  description  in  some  of 
the  periodicals,  most  of  the  chapters  which  compose  this 
volume  have,  through  the  kindness  of  the  Editors,  already 
appeared  at  intervals  in  some  of  the  London  Magazines. 
They  are  now  offered  in  an  arranged,  collected,  and  noted 
shape  to  the  reader,  as  some  results  of  actual  observation, 
in  which,  without  pretending  that  I  either  went  to  or 
came  from  Italy  with  any  violent  admiration  for  its  people 
or  customs,  if  I  have  "extenuated  nothing,"  neither  have 
I  consciously  "  set  down  aught  in  malice." 


"  THE  EUN  TO  NAPLES." 


17 


CHAPTEE  I. 


"  THE    EFN   TO   NAPLES." 


It  is  so  hard  to  get  well  in  with  one's  subject,  either  at 
the  commencement  of  a  Tour,  or  of  the  Story  of  it— there 
is  so  much  time  usually  spent  taking  in,  or  giving  out 
"first  impressions "  of  foreign  places  and  people,  that  the 
reader,  to  whom   all  this  may  be  old  "news,"  is  often 
fretted  and  tired  before  the  matter  he  is  to  deal  with  has 
been  well  opened  to  him.     This  was  all  very  well  in  the 
days  of  "  sentimental  "  Sterne,  when  "  my  travelled  gentle- 
man "  could  bully  and  silence  an  honest  frog-fearing,  stay- 
at-home  neighbour,   with   his  insolent   "you've  been  in 
Prance  then  ?"     But  now-a-days,  when  Calais  and  Bou- 
logne are  but  the  "  Surrey  side  of  the  water"  to  Dover  or 
Folkestone,  for  a  writer  to  stand  dallying  and  describing 
the  continental  outskirts,  is  quite  intolerable.     So  that  to 
dash  at  once  "m  medias  res,''  I  beg  the  reader  to  under- 
stand that  we  ran  over  as  fast  as  steam  could  whirl  us,  to 
Paris ;  thence  by  an  half-opened  rail,  to  Chalons,  thence 
down  the  Saone  to  Lyons,  and  again  down  the  "  arrowy 
Eh6ne"  to  Avignon  and  MarseHles— a  line  of  route  which 
I  am  heretical  enough  to  pronounce  superior  to    the 


18 


0LEAT«1NGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


vaunted  "  Up  the  Rhine!"  and  this  not  only  in  the  scale 
of  the  scenery,  in  the  liveliness  of  its  current,  when  there 
::s  water  enough  (which  by  the  way  is  not  always),  but 
even  in  those  "castled  crags,"   on  which  '' moyen-dge'' 
ruins  seem  to  have  been  placed  for  no  conceivable  use 
except  to  serve  as  "  lay  figures"  for  the  coming  sketcher. 
As  for  those  figments  of  mediseval  romance  which  prate  of 
"  knights  and  squires  on  their  barbed  steeds,  issuing  in 
mailed  array  from  the  frowning  portals,"  they  are  pure, 
unadulterated  nonsense.     I  don't  think  it  likely  that  the 
"middle-age"  cavaliers  ever  brought  their  steeds  to  that 
perfection  of  the  manege  attained  by  those  Astley-an  heroes 
of  our  own  day,  who  train  their  horses  to  walk  up-stairs, 
stand  up  to  a  maypole,  kneel  to  a  peerless  damsel,  and  to 
perform  other  wonderful  feats ;  and  yet,  as  we  shot  down 
the  Ehone,  I  saw  some  fortalices  perched  on  some  peaks, 
into  which  not  the  most  trained  of  Astley's  troop  could 
climb,  or  otherwise  find  entrance,  except,  perhaps,  by  aid 
of  the  parachute  of  a  balloon. 

Arrived  in  headlong  haste  at  Marseilles,  we  were  obliged 
to  wait  several  days  for  the  departure  of  the  Naples 
steamer,  during  which  we  had  time  to  make  some  me- 
teorological observations  of  the  varieties  and  vicissitudes 
of  that  boasted  climate,  which  not  unfrequently  proves 
to  the  too  trusting  and  unwary  traveller  a  "delusion,  a 
mockery,  and  a  snare." 

"  Dear  me  !  why  do  you  take  those  things  ?  are  not  you 
gomgto'tlie  South  of  France?!'''  was  a  query  directed  to 
one  warm  great  coat,  and  two  cloaks  ditto,  which  formed 
part  of  the  equipment  of  my  daughters  and  myself  for 
our  journey.  "  The  south  of  France"  stands,  to  the  ima- 
gination of  some  people,  as  an  alias  for  the  torrid  zone ! 


"  THE  BUN  TO  NAPLES." 


19 


and  yet  I  do  affirm  that  in  no  season  or  climate  did  I  ever 
experience  more  intense  and  piercing  cold  than  in  our 
transit  to  and  through  this  southern  region,  and  this  in  the 
season  which  poets  call  "spring."  In  our  day,  the  Lyons 
Eailway  (now  of  course  complete)  ceased  at  Tonnerre,  and 
as  we  crossed  the  high  grounds  to  Dijon,  at  night,  and 
through  deep-lying  snow,  we  felt  all  the  rigour  of  an 
Alpine  winter  transit,  in  proof  of  which  I  may  mention  a 
slight,  but  significant  incident.  At  about  midnight,  while 
the  horses  were  changing  at  a  solitary  post-house,  I  had  let 
down  the  window  of  the  coupe  to  gaze  for  a  moment  on 
the  white  world  around.  The  deep  silence  was  only  broken 
by  the  jingling  of  the  horses'  bells,  and  the  indescribable 
noises  with  which  the  French  alternately  coax  and  curse 
their  cattle,  in  the  midst  of  which  I  heard  the  ostler 
say  in  a  quiet  "aside"  to  the  postilion,  "don't  let  that 
horse  stray  down  the  lane ;  one  did  so  last  night,  and  the 
wolves  had  him  in  an  instant .'"  This  was  getting  well  into 
Alpine  alarms,  without  expecting  it.  However,  we  were  soon 
over  this  range  of  high  land,  and  when  we  got  to  Chalons 
next  morning,  we  found  sunshine  again,  with  little  more 
than  a  hoar-frost  on  the  ground.  This  was  once  more  varied, 
as  we  approached  Marseilles,  by  the  Use  wind  which  blew 
steadily  ofi"  the  Pyrenees,  and  sent  us  to  our  wrappings 
with  renewed  congratulations  on  our  foresight  in  having 
brought  them ;  and  when  we  arrived  in  that  extremity  of 
the  vaunted  "south  of  France,"  we  found  the  inhabitants 
felicitating  themselves  upon  a  piercing  wind,  which  was 
cutting  US  Northerns  to  the  bone !  because — "  it  would  avert 
the  mosquito  plague  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  longer." 
This  variableness  and  quick  change  of  temperature  seems 

c2 


20 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


to  belong  to  every  region  of  "  the  sunny  south  :*'  its 
sunniest  day  will  close  with  a  sharpness  of  cold  most 
trying  to  a  delicate  constitution.  AVoe  betide  the  invalid 
who,  tempted  by  a  "  burning  noon,"  exposes  himself  with- 
out winter  appliances  to  the  sudden  chill  which  comes, 
not  with  twilight,  for  there  is  none,  but  with  the  instan- 
taneous darkness  which  follows  sunset ;  with  his  pores 
open,  and  his  poncho  lying  in  the  depths  of  his  portman- 
teau !  the  chances  are  much  in  favour  of  his  pulmonary  de- 
licacy becoming  a  pleuritic  "  sickness  unto  death."  And 
then,  as  to  hint  aught  against  the  salubrious  South, 
would  be  flat  heresy,  his  case  is  pronounced  one  which 
"  must  have  been  hopeless  from  the  first,  since  the  de- 
licious climate  of  Italy  ^proved  of  no  avail: '  Even  at  Nice, 
so  freely  prescribed  in  England  as  a  great  pulmonary 
hospital,  a  denizen  assured  me  that  I  might  look  for 
a  variation  of  as  much  as  ticenty  degrees  of  the  thermo- 
meter  between  the  back  and  front  rooms  of  the  same 
house !  At  Naples,  they  told  us  of  the  deadly  danger  of 
remaining  at  a  certain  season  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Tufia 
Eock  behind  our  lodgings  on  the  "  Chiatamone."  At 
Eome  they  rate  lodgings  higher  or  lower  as  the  sun  does, 
or  does  not,  shine  on  the  side  of  the  street  at  which  you 
live,  and  everything  everywhere  bespeaks  an  inequality  in 
the  climate,  of  which  invalids  are  as  seldom  aware,  as 
they  ought  to  be  specially  forew^amed. 

The  passage  from  Marseilles  to  Naples  is  arranged  as 
much  as  possible  on  the  plan  of  a  pleasure  excursion.  The 
steamer  going  generally  coastwise,  "  makes  play"  at  night, 
and  "lies-to"  for  the  livelong  day  at  "Genoa,"  "Leg- 
horn," "  Civita  Vecchia,"  respectively,  giving  the  passengers 
a  full  twelve  hours  on  shore  at  each  of  these  places.   Thus 


u 


THE  RUN  TO  NAPLES. 


tt 


21 


we  were  enabled  to  run  over  Grenoa*s  street  of  palaces, 
and  through  some  of  them  ;  to  run  up  by  rail  to  Pisa,  and 
survey  its  grouped  wonders  of  Duomo,  Baptistery,  Campa- 
nile, and  Campo  Santo  (the  "real  old  original  one"  of 
Italy),  all  of  which  stand — the  Tower  may  be  said  to 
"Zowwye" — as  it  were  in  "a  ring  fence,"  for  the  conveni- 
ence of  such  visitors  as  ourselves.    We  spent  half  an  hour 
on  the  Leaning  Tower,  realising  that  strange  sensation 
of  being  tempted  to  "  grasp  the  wall  to  prevent  its  fall- 
ing," which  we  believe  all  persons  experience  on  mounting 
this  singular  caprice  of  architecture.     As  every  one  must 
give  a  vote  on  the  question  of  design  (?)  or  accident  (?)  in 
the  building  of  the  tower,  I  tender  mine  on  Sir  Eoger  de 
Coverley's  principle  of  "much  to  be  said  on  both  sides." 
I  believe  the  direction  of  the  tower  began  in  an  accidental 
giving  way  of  the  foundation,  and  was  then  designedly 
continued,  the  courses  of  the  upper  masonry  being  all  laid 
with  a  due  conformity  to  the  great  principle  upon  which 
it  stands — namely,  that  the  line  of  the  centre  of  gravity 
sliould  fall  within  the  base. 

An  inscription,  as  below,*  connects  this  tower  with  the 
repute  of  one  of  those  "  men  before  his  age,"  whom  the  In- 
fallibility of  his  day  had  hounded  into  retractation  and  cap- 
tivity, for  the  very  discoveries  which  now  make  his  world- 
wide glory.  The  Pisa  Tower  is  not  the  only  one  which 
exults  in  the   remembrance  of  having  had  Gallileo's 

*  GaUOaeo,  Gallilsi 

Experimentis,  hoc  Turri 

Supra  gravium  corponim  lapsu 

Institutis — legibus  motus  detectia — 

Mechanica  condidit — 

Cura  Vincenti  Carignani. 
Eq :  .Aurat. 


22 


GLEANINGS  AFa'EE  "  GRAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


plummet-line  let  down  from  its  top.     St.  Mark's  Campa- 
nile,  at  Venice,  records  a  similar  boast   on  its  walls. 
Wondrous  power  of  truth,  strong  only  in  its  own  sim- 
plicity, to  live  down  all  "  shams,''  and  to  rise  in  spite  of  the 
proscription  of  opposing  dogmatism  and  ignorance  !   Every 
honour  now  heaped  on  Gallileo*s  memory  throughout 
Italy  is  a  virtual  revolt  against  that  monstrous  assump- 
tion which  attempted  to  establish  its  "  absolute  shall,"  by 
trampling  alike  upon  the  eternal  laws  of  nature  and  on 
liberty  of  human  thought,  and  every  tablet  inscribed  with 
the  name  of  him  whom  "  Italy  delights  to  honour,"  is  a 
standing  gibe  on  that  standing  motto  of  the  Papal  decrees, 
"  Ad  perpetuam  rei  memoriam^'  which  may  be  freely  ren- 
dered, "  Dogmatism  damned  to  everlasting  fame."     Galli- 
leo,  as  he  came  forth  from  the  Judgment  Hall,  where  his 
lips  had  been  compelled  to  abjure  as  "  impious  and  here- 
tical" that  which  his  heart  and  intellect  knew  to  be  true, 
is  said  to  have  stamped  on  the  earth  and  muttered,  "  H pur 
si  muove''  (but  it  does  move).     Whether  this  be  true  or 
not,  even  as  the  oak  is  in  the  acorn,  so  in  the  import  of 
these  few  simple  words  lay  the  seeds  of  that  great  protest 
in  which  the  world  has  since  risen  against  a  system  which, 
in  its  own  overweening  assumptions,  destroyed  its  own  au- 
thority over  mind  and  conscience. 

Having  thus  "  blown  off"  some  of  the  indignation  which 
a  recollection  of  this  case  of  G-allileo's  always  generates, 
and  to  which  the  paltry  excuses  and  subterfuges  of  Eome's 
modern  "  Wisemen"  always  act  as  fuel  to  fire,  let  us  leave 
Pisa,*  which  may  not  inaptly  be  called  "  Florence  asleep," 

*  I  found  among  my  notes  of  Pisa  an  observation  which  seems  worth 
presenting  to  the  consideration  of  the  curious.  The  ancient  Pisans  obvi- 
ously determined  to  make  their  group  of  wonders  each  and  all  remark- 


"TKE  llUN  TO  NAPLES." 


23 


and  get  on  board  our  steamer,  and  to  Naples  as  fast  as 
possible.  But  before  we  "clear  out"  from  the  port  of  Leg- 
horn, there  is  a  delicious  little  bit  of  nationality  which  one 
would  not  "  willingly  let  die  unrecorded."  Our  "steamer," 
owner,  captain,  and  crew,  were  all  Neapolitans,  engine- 
men  and  stokers  only  excepted ;  these  were  English,  and 
these,  as  is  their  wont  all  the  world  over,  insisted  on 
carrying  their  technical  terms  and  words  of  command  along 
with  them,  so  that  the  effect  of  hearing,  "Ease  her," 
"  Stop  her,"  "  Half  a  turn  a  head,"  and  so  on,  attempted 
(not  pronounced)  with  foreign  emphasis  and  accentation, 
was  not  a  little  ludicrous.  As  our  vessel  headed  out  of 
Leghorn  harbour,  a  merchantman  was  entering,  and  a 
slight  collision  took  place,  ending  in  the  crash  of  a  bul- 
wark or  so.  The  damage  was  slight,  and  the  fault  certainly 
lay  with  our  captain,  who  had  too  much  "  way"  on  his 
vessel;  and  I  then  saw  for  the  first  time  the  extreme 
vivacity  of  the  Italian  temperament  under  excitement :  he 
stamped,  he  gesticulated,  he  cursed,  he  called  on  "  St 
Genaro," — he  could  scarcely  have  done  more  had  he  started 
a  plank,  and  let  in  "  five  feet  water  to  the  hold  of  either 
vessel," — and  he  ended  all  by  summoning  the  engine-man 


able.  "  Holy  Land  earth"  was  brought  to  form  the  last  resting-place 
in  the  Campo  Santo,  the  "  Leaning  Tower/*  so  built  as  to  be  a  wonder 
of  *'  architectural  cunning,"  and  the  Duomo,  independent  of  its  general 
effect,  seems  intended  to  symbolise  the  triumph  of  Christianity  over  Pa- 
ganism. Everywhere  in  its  outside  wall  are  inserted  polished  marbles, 
containing  fragments  of  inscriptions  and  dedications  to  heathen  gods  and 
goddesses,  all  carefully  turned  upside  down,  and  sawn  across,  so  that  you 
can  distinguish  what  they  were,  and  can  also  see  that  they  are  de- 
signedly destroyed.  This  seems  to  have  been  done  in  order  to  let  them 
stand  as  memorials  of  the  overturned  system  they  once  commemorated : 
it  is  scarcely  probable  that  for  the  mere  labour  of  erajiing  these  inscrip- 
tions they  would  have  been  allowed  to  stand. 


M 


'     I 


H 


<! 


iH 


hi    . 


,!H 


)i 


24 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE**-ISTS. 


on  deck ; — "  sweaty  and  grimy,'*  the  very  personification  of 
that  '''•  solidite^''  which  Continentals  attribute  to  our  Is- 
landers, the  engine-man  ascended  from  his  den,  and  stood 
immovable  and  unperturbed  before  the  irate  Neapolitan, 
whose  "gestures  redoubled"  and  whose  anger  flamed  fiercer 
at  sight  of  the  Englishman's  impassibility.  He  ran  to 
the  side  and  showed  the  splintered  bulwark,  he  shook  his 
fist  in  the  air,  he  pointed  to  the  merchantman,  whose 
commander  was  vociferating  a  volley  of  answering  abuse 
from  hisvessel — but  through  all  the  Englishman  stood  re- 
solute and  composed,  without  a  word,  until,  in  a  lull  of  the 
storm,  which  had  exhausted  itself  by  its  own  violence,  he 
gave  forth  this  terse  response  to  the  whole  pantomime : 

"  Tou  didn't  say  *  stop '  " 

"  All  !  maledetto  sia  il  verho  ;  e  vero,^^  said  the  luckless 
Captain,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  prostrated  at 
once  in  the  conviction  that  the  fault  was  all  his  own. 
All  Baba  forgot  "  Open,  Sesame !"  and  no  other  cereal 
word  had  power  over  the  immovable  stone  door.  So  the 
Neapolitan  had  roared  out  "  Bitarda  .'"  most  lustily,  but 
he  had  forgotten  to  say  "  Stkop  hareP^  which  was  his  ver- 
sion of  "  stop  her!"  and  which  was  the  only  password  to 
which  the  stolid  Englishman  would  yield  obedience,  and 
who,  having  given  his  terse  explanation,  without  wasting 
one  unnecessary  word,  descended  to  his  lower  regions  with 
the  same  impassible  face  he  had  brought  up  with  him. 

"We  found  ourselves  "  off  Capri"  in  the  early  morning 
of  the  fourth  day  of  our  voyage.  "We  had  full  time  to 
make  ourselves  familiar  with  the  outline  of  Vesuvius,  and 
to  institute  the  regular  comparison  between  the  Bay  of 
Dublin  and  of  Naples,  before  the  custom-officers  of  his 


"  THE  EUN  TO  NAPLES.'* 


25 


Majesty  of  the  Two  Sicilies  came  on  board  and  gave  us 
our  permits  for  the  shore.  We  were  landed,  and  guarded 
to  the  custom-house,  and  here  we  had  a  foretaste  of 
those  Italian  Dogana  usages,  which  we  afterwards  found 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  Italy  alike  open,  shame- 
less, and  as  strange  to  British  subjects  as  I  hope  they  will 
ever  continue  to  be. 

Our  trunks  had  been  all  opened,  searched,  and  repacked 
again ;  we  had  given  them  into  charge  of  the  commis^ 
sionario  of  our  hotel,  when  the  douanier  made  me  a  signal. 
I  stepped  up  to  him,  and  he  formally  introduced  me  to  the 
sentinel,  who  stood  in  stiff  military  attitude  behind  the 
door  of  the  bureau ;  I  began  to  think  there  must  be  some 
offence  to  be  answered  for,  when  the  soldier  of  his  Majesty 
of  Naples  intimated  by  unmistakable  signs  that  what 
was  wanted  was  a  "  huono  mano'^  for  him,  the  soldier!  and 
not  for  the  custom-house  searcher — "  quis  custodiet  ipsos 
cusiodes.^'  1  ought  to  have  resisted,  I  ougJit  to  have  re- 
presented, some  one  will  say.  Perhaps  I  ought ;  but  I  was 
a  languageless  stranger,  having  the  care  of  two  young 
girls;  resistance  might  bring  altercation,  difficulty,  perhaps 
detention.  So  I  submitted,  merely  asked,  "  How  much  in 
French  money  ?''^ — I  had  no  other.  The  militaire  nQmedi 
"five  francs,"  as  if  he  was  quoting  from  a  tariff,  and  I  ' 
paid  and  walked  away.  I  dare  say  mine  was  but  the  case 
of  hundreds  who  daily  submit  to,  and  thus  perpetuate,  a 
nuisance  of  extortion,  for  which  a  remedy  ought  to  be 
found  by  some  one ;  but  it  certainly  should  not  be  left  a 
helpless  stranger,  on  his  first  landing  on  a  foreign  shore, 
to  find  or  apply  it. 


y 


-) 


1      SI 


V  i 


:    I 


m 


26 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  TOUE"   IST8. 


CHAPTEE  II. 


"doing   OUU  VESUVIUS." 


"  Have  you  done  your  Vesuvius  ?"  is  a  question  as  com  - 
mon  at  Naples  as  "  Have  you  been  to  the  Opera  ?"  in 
London.  For  some  days  after  my  arrival,  via  Marseilles, 
in  an  invalid's  haste  into  warm  weather,  I  could  plead 
weakness  as  an  excuse  for  not  having  achieved  this  inevi- 
table feat ;  but  in  a  surprisingly  short  time,  sunny  skies 
and  salubrious  air  rendered  the  excuse  inadmissible — the 
"  sick-list"  became  a  palpable  sham — so  that  at  length  our 
party  was  made  for  "next  day,"  and  for  "next,"  and 
"next"  again;  "to-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-mor- 
row," might  have  crept  on  to  the  "  last  syllable  of  our  re- 
corded time"  at  Naples  ;  for  Guiseppe,  our  laquais  de 
place,  ever  placed  an  embargo  on  the  expedition,  by  turning 
his  weather-eye  to  Vesuvius,  and  assuring  us  that  it  was 
useless  to  ascend  until  he  gave  the  signal,  for  that  it  was 
often  "  cativo  tempo*''  on  the  mountain,  and  that  he  knew 
it  and  its  weather  signals  well — "  Nessun  com^  io,  signorP 

"We  submitted  for  some  days  to  this  despotism,  having 
the  satisfaction  of  repeating  daily,  just  about  the  hour 
when  we  might  have  been  making  meteorological  experi- 


"  DOING  OUE  VESUVIUS." 


27 


ments  on  the  summit,  "  What  a  lovely  day  this  would  have 
been  for  Vesuvius !"  At  last,  as  commonly  happens  when 
the  reins  of  authority  are  too  tightly  drawn,  we  burst 
through  them  all.  One  morning,  at  about  six  o'clock,  I 
opened  my  window,  and  seeing  the  bright  sun  and  in- 
tensely blue  sky  of  an  Italian  fine  day,  I  girded  myself 
for  conflict,  and  when  Guiseppe  came  with  shaving-water 
(I  never  gave  in  to  the  moustache  mania*  in  which  the 
English  disfigure  their  honest,  clean-shaven,  Saxon  faces 
abroad)  about  half  an  hour  afterwards,  the  following  col- 
loquy ensued : 

"  Tlcco,  Guiseppe,  huono  giorno^ 

"Si,  signer!  ma  Vesuvie  offuscata  ancora.^''  (Vesuvius 
has  still  its  nightcap  on.) 

"  Niente  —  fciente  —  sera  tempo  chvaro^"*  I  stoutly  re- 
joined. 

"  Signor,  non^"*  returned  Guiseppe  the  immovable. 

"  Andiamo,^^  replied  I. 

"  Signor,  norC*  (da  capo). 

I  could  not  argue  the  matter;  much  further — my  Italian 
was  wearing  very  thin — but  I  must  have  looked  rebellion 
and  decision,  for  at  length,  with  one  of  those  indescribable 
pantomimes  in  which  these  people  throw  head,  shoulders, 
hands,  body,  all  into  one  shrug,  Guiseppe  yielded,  with 
"  Signor  e  maestro!'''  meaning  thereby,  "You  are  an  ob- 
stinate, buU-headed  Inglese!  but — have  it  all  your  own 

*  This  was  written  before  the  "moustache"  had  made  its  way  into 
the  "  General  Orders"  of  the  British  army,  from  whence,  as  matter  of 
course,  it  will  insinuate  itself  into  the  counting-house  of  the  merchant 
and  the  office  of  "the  solicitor."  Use  and  fashion  reconcile  us  to  many 
things ;  but  I  adhere  to  my  preference  for  the  clean  face,  especially  when 
I  see  hirsute  heroes  arranging  their  moustache  to  eat — "  white  soup!" 


i 


\\% 


2S 


(( 


»» 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  QttAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


way.**  So  the  carriage  was  ordered,  and  at  about  teu 
o'clock  a  party  of  four — my  (laughters,  myself,  and  an 
agreeable  military  friend — started  for  Resina,  where  you 
leave  the  once  lava-ruined,  often  lava-threatened  towiif 
built  upon  the  grave  of  another  buried  deep,  deep  below, 
to  explore  the  tumulum  overhead,  which  will  one  day  again 
spread  a  fresh  winding-sheet  of  scoriae  and  ashes  over 
both.  The  ascent  of  Vesuvius  could  not  commence  from 
a  more  appropriate  point. 

Although  it  would  be  ungrateful  to  our  own  good  for- 
tune in  the  whole  expedition  to  wish  any  one  arrangement 
altered,  yet,  for  the  benefit  of  others,  I  record  an  advice, 
that,  when  "ladies  are  in  the  case,'*  or,  to  speak  truth, 
gentlemen  "  fat  and  scant  o'  breath**  like  myself,  it  is  more 
advisable  to  take  a  carriage  and  three  ("  en  mHov'^  four  !) 
by  the  new  road  to  the  Hermitage,  rather  than  a  carriage 
and  pair  to  Resina,  and  thence  ponies  by  the  terraced  short 
cut,  striking  direct  upwards  through  the  vine  region  of 
Vesuvius  to  the  same  point.  The  terrace  ascent  is  more  in 
character  for  a  mountain  ^dventure,  but  the  carriage-road 
infinitely  more  unromantically  comfortable,  for  visitors  can 
now  whirl  up  to  the  Hermitage  as  to  the  door  of  a  post- 
house  on  any  public  highway,  instead  of  climbing  over 
cinders  and  lava,  as  we  did,  on  the  backs  of  diminutive 
ponies.  Bid  I  say  diminutive  ponies  ?  I  recal  the  dispa- 
raging word,  for,  of  the  sagacity,  strength,  and  endurance 
of  those  extraordinary  animals  I  cannot  speak  too  largely. 
They  were  all  good ;  but  of  mine  own — old,  grizzly,  and 
shaggy  as  he  was — I  must  make  mention  in  terms  of 
special   affectionate   remembrance.      Imagine  a  man  (in 


(( 


DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS. 


»» 


29 


jockey  phrase  *''  sixteen  stun")  mounted  in  an  antiquated 
capacious  military  saddle,  peaked  before  and  behind,  upon 
an  animal  four  and  a  half  feet  high  (I  measured  him  with 
my  walking-stick)  ;  further,  conceive  of  this  creature  as 
walking  away  with  one,  up  terraces  of  smooth  stone,  over 
wrinkles  of  indurated  and  contorted  lava,  among  beds  of 
rugged  cinders,  and  round  rugged  comers,  which  I  can 
but  compare  to  the  short  turns  from  one  flight  of  stairs  to 
another — and  all  this  done  without  "  start,**  "  stumble,** 
or  "  mistake,*'  of  any  kind.  Once  or  twice,  in  pure  shame 
at  burdening  such  an  animal  in  places  of  special  rugged- 
ness  or  difficulty,  I  dismounted  and  led  him,  for  which  act 
of  mercy  I  got  mercilessly  laughed  at  by  the  guides,  who 
all  assured  me  that  he  would  carry  me  in  perfect  safety ; 
^-and  he  did  so.  "We  were  all  equally  well  mounted. 
Nathless,  I  abide  by  my  opinion,  that,  taking  into  account 
the  severe  labour  of  the  ascent  of  the  cone,  it  is  better  to 
leave  your  carriage  at  the  Hermitage,  and  on  your  return 
roll  rapidly  down  to  Naples,  rather  than  ride  the  best  of 
all  possible  ponies  five  miles  down  hill  in  the  darkness, 
after  a  day  of  fatigue. 

The  Hermit  who  in  former  days  kept  vigil  on  the  sterile 
skirt  of  Vesuvius,  in  the  cell  of  "II  Salvatore,"  has  long 
since  retreated  before  the  hordes  of  adventure-hunters 
who  now  throng  the  mountain.  If  the  occupant  of  the 
Hermitage  were  a  genuine  Eremite,  long  before  he  quitted 
the  field  his  pious  soul  must  have  been  sore  vexed  by  the 
continued  and  growing  intrusions  upon  his  "  ancient  soli- 
tary reign,"  as  day  after  day  tired  and  rollicking  tourists, 
roaring  for  "Lachryma  Christi" — guides  squabbling  for 


U 


JV 


30 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


piastres — and  last,  and  worst  of  all,  beggars  (poaching 
dogs !)  rattling  their  chins*  for  gain,  disturbed  his  con- 
templations ; — all  these  interruptions  must  have  left  the 
poor  man  much  the  same  kind  of  quiet  as  his  pasteboard 
confrere  of  the  cowl  enjoys  at  Vauxhall :  and  when  lady 
tourists  began  to  find  their  way  to  the  mountain,  and  came 
in  mincing  and  touching  tones  to  solicit  leave  to  bare  their 
pretty  little  feet,  and  to  change  their  torn  boots  and  stock- 
ings in  the  cell  of  the  Solitary,  we  may  imagine  the  horror 
of  the  venerable  man  as  first  finding  utterance  in  an  adap- 
tation of  St.  Senan's  cruel  song : 

"  Cui  Eremita — ffeminis 
Commune  quid  cum  monachis  ? 
Nee  te  nee  ullam  aliam 
Admittemus  in  casulam.^^ 

Then  quoth  the  Hermit,  "  "What  have  you 
With  me  or  my  retreat  to  do  ? 
You  change  no  stocking  in  the  cell 
Where  I  in  holy  quiet  dwell.'* 

Then,  as  the  "  pressure  from  without"  grew  more  intense, 
and  the  throng  of  tourists  from  below  came  more  "  fast 
and  furious,"  we  may  further  imagine  the  Solitary  giving  up 
the  strife,  and  seeking  a  safer  retreat  for  his  asceticism  in 
some  distant  Calabrian  wilderness,  leaving  the  Hermitage 

*  The  pantomime  of  Neapolitan  beggary  is  curious.  They  run  by 
your  carriage,  holding  up  the  forefinger,  and  calling  at  intervals,  "  Mori 
di  fame  /" — a  plea  which  their  laughing  eye  and  round  bronzed  cheek 
shows  to  be  a  lie  on  the  face  of  it.  Then  they  strike  their  chins,  making 
their  jaws  rattle  like  castanets,  to  show,  I  suppose,  that  their  masticating 
organs  are  ready,  though  their  meat  be  not  so.  The  Neapolitan  beggar 
cannot  be  repulsed  effectually  by  any  form  of  refusal  except  turning  the 
hack  of  your  hand  to  him ;  when  this  is  done,  he  goes  away  at  once. — 
I  wonder  why. 


u 


DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS 


»» 


31 


and  its  desecrated  "stazioni''  to  fall  to  the  present  "  vile 
uses"  of  a  rude  banquet-house  and  wine-shop,  where  the 
jolly,  or  quasi-jolly  host  stands  by  his  "bill"  more  stoutly 
than  others  by  "  their  order,"  and  will  not  bate  a  maravedie 
of  his  charge  for  wine  growing  worse  and  dearer  every 
day.  The  "generous"  and  "  cheering"  qualities  of  the 
famed  "Lachryma  Christi"  are  now  but  matters  of  his- 
tory. You  get  at  the  Hermitage  a  sweetish,  perr^-ish. 
wine,  very  grateful  after  toil,  but  by  no  means  of  that 
overpowering  strength  which,  as  they  tell  you,  used  to 
make  "cheeks  glow"  and  "  the  eye  sparkle"  after  a  single 
glass.* 

At  the  Hermitage,  those  who  are  for  the  mountain  leave 
those  who  are  afraid  to  venture  further ;  and  here,  under 
strict  promise  to  poor  distant  mamma  "  not  to  allow  the 
girls  m  any  accoimt  to  fatigue  themselves,"  I  issued  a 
tyrannic  mandate  that  they  should  get  out  drawing-books, 
and  amuse  themselves  as  they  best  might,  while  we  took 
the   upward    road   in    all  the  superiority  of  masculine 

*  Dr.  Moore,  in  his  "  Tour  in  Italy,**  gives  a  verse  in  praise  of  this 
wine  (vol.  iL  p.  217),  which  he  has  translated  so  prosaically  and  imper- 
fectly, that  I  am  tempted  to  offer  a  version : 

"  Chi  fu  ne  contadini  il  piu  indiscreto, 
Che  a  sbigottir  la  gente 
Diede  nome  dolente 
Al'  vin  che  sopra  ogn'  altro  il  cuor  fk  lieto  ? 
Lachrima  dunque  appellarsi  un'  rise 
Parto  di  nobilissima  vindemia." 

What  undisceming  clown  was  he 

Who  first  applied  that  doleful  name — 
A  bugbear  to  good  companie — 

To  wine  which  warms  the  heart  like  flame  ? 
A  smile  were  fitter  word  than  tear 
For  what  our  generous  grape  gives  here. 


32 


OLEANINQS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


strength.  Poor  things !  they  uttered  no  demur,  though 
their  eyes  spoke  intelligibly  disappointment  and  daring 
mixed.  They  asked,  "just  for  information  sake,*'  a  few 
leading  questions  as  to  the  "chairs"  which  were  lying 
about,  which  the  ^^porteurs'*  were  too  happy  to  answer 
with  true  Italian  volubility.  Then  they  invited  the  sig- 
noras  to  "seat  themselves,"  and  prove  "how  easy  they 
were,"  "how  strong,"  "how  light,"  "how  safe,"  and  so 
on.  In  this  state  of  hint  and  hesitation — our  military 
friend  of  course  seconding  the  object  of  the  ladies — up 
whirled  a  carriage  with  another  party ;  and  when  I  saw  a 
young  girl,  certainly  not  stronger-looking  than  either  of 
mine,  preparing  for  the  upward  road,  I  could  hold  out  no 
longer.  ^^  Andiamo'^  was  the  word;  in  a  few  minutes  we 
were  off  for  the  "Atria  di  Cavallo;"  and  even  then  the 
beaming  delight  of  their  countenances  amply  repaid  one 
for  yielding.  Now  that  I  know  what  the  adventure  is,  I 
would  pronounce  that,  except  for  an  absolute  invalid,  it  is 
what  Mr.  Stephenson  declares  a  tunnel  through  the  globe 
to  be — "  just  a  question  of — expense  !" — of  the  four  pias- 
tres, or  £jixteen  shillings  each,  extra  cost  in  the  expedition. 
Both  the  Hermitage,  and  a  stately  Eoyal  Observatory  a 
little  higher  up,  stand  on  a  spur  or  promontory  of  Vesu- 
vius, and  both,  I  should  say,  quite  safe  from  the  course  of 
any  eruption,  except  one  which  would  upheave  the  whole 
mountain  from  its  base.  These  buildings  may  be  insulated 
within  a  fiery  cordon  by  a  junction  of  lava-torrents  flowing 
round  them,  when  the  atmosphere  would  be  intolerable  to 
any  except  that  "  Fire  King,"  whose  favourite  place  for  a 
siesta  was  an  oven ;  but  overwhelmed  they  scarcely  can 
be,  inasmuch  as  ravines  at  each  side  offer  escape-courses 


It 


(( 


DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS." 


33 


for  a  substance  which,  however  sluggishly,  still  as  its  ge- 
neral law,  conforms  to  that  of  gravitation.     The  "  Fossa 
Grande,"  is  the  hoUow  way  in  which   the  lava  usuaUy 
engulphs  itself,  and  mingles  with  the  older  lavas  lying 
in  wild  sterile  confusion  over  a  large  tract  at  the  bottom 
of  the  ravine,  at  about  the  middle  band  of  the  mountain. 
This  tract,  once  cultivated,  fertHe,  and  populous,  has  now 
but  a  church-tower,  or  lava-girt  villa  or  so,  standing  out  in 
the  desolation,  like  masts  of  a  submerged  vessel,  to  tell  of 
the  wreck  below,  and  seems  to  be  abandoned  as  the  waste- 
ground  for  discharging  the  slag  and  fiery  torrent  of  the 
volcano  into  it.     None  of  the  modem  eruptions  have  sent 
their  lava-streams  below  this  region—some  not  even  so 
far;   the  eruption  of  1638,  which  consumed  a  former 
Eesina,  appears  to  have  been  the  last  which  poured  its 
destroying  agency  down  on  the  sea-coast  band  of  Vesuvius. 
As  you  pass  from  the  Observatory  onwards  over  the 
"Atria  di  Cavallo"  (a  level,  of  which  more  presently)  to 
the  base  of  Vesuvius  Proper,  your  course  lies  through  and 
over  great  beds  of  lava,  lying  as  they  cooled,  of  diflferent 
shades  of  brown,  and  resembling,  in  colour  and  seeming 
consistence,  the  fresh  cut  peat  of  an  Irish  bog,  more  than 
any  substance  I  know.    Of  the  eruptions  of  the  present  cen- 
tury, that  of  1822  seems  to  have  been  most  extensive :  the 
varieties  of  shapes  in  which  the  impelling  forces  have  left 
these  cooling  masses  are  grotesque  and  innumerable.   The 
guides  called  our  attention  to  one  named  "H  Mantello," 
which  bore  in  its  graceful  folds  no  remote  resemblance  to 
the  sculptured   draperies  of  the  bronze    statues  in  the 
Museo  Borbonico ;  further  on  lay  two  huge  heaps  of  what 
might  be  taken  for  coils  of  rope,  tarred  and  ready  to  unrol 


y 


'Mil 


D 


84 


i» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  TOUE    -1ST8 


for  rigging  a  ship  ;  and  again,  a  third  lay  lapped  over 
in  folds  not  unlike  those  of  an  antediluvian  rhinoceros 
hide !    All  these  fantastic  shapes  alike  denoted  their  origin 
in  the  irresistible  impulse  given  by  the  lava-stores  of  the 
mountain  in  action,  as  they  pushed  and  drove  before  them 
the  cooling  mass  of  previously  ejected  matter,  which  as 
visibly  expressed  its  reluctance  to  "  move  on"   in  the 
writhings  and  contortions  everywhere  marking  its  down- 
ward progress.      A  half-hour's  ride  through  this  scene 
brought  us  to  the  foot  of  the  cone,  where  the  horses  are 
left,  and  gentlemen  are  to  surrender  themselves  to  the  guid- 
ance of  centaurs,  or  man-horses,  as  we  termed  them,  while 
ladies  arrange  themselves  in  the  "  chaises-a-porteur,"  or 
shoulder-chairs,  in  which  they  make  the  ascent.     While  all 
this  is  preparing,  I  take  the  opportunity  to  give  a  geological 
look  around  me,  and  having  done  so,  to  confess  some  mis- 
taken ideas  I  had  hitherto  retained  through  all  my  studies 
of  volcanic  action — mistakes,  perhaps,   inseparable  from 
studying  natural  phenomena  by  hooh  only— and  yet  I  may 
possibly  render  a  service  to  readers  who  have  never  seen 
the  actual  phenomena  described,  by  being  as  unlearned  as 
possible  in  my  remarks,  for  it  is,  I  fear,  a  common  fault  of 
scientific  writers  to  "fire  over  their  readers'  heads!"— to 
forget  in  their  own  superior  attainments  the  ignorance  of 
others— and  hence  to  write  in  a   style  so  learnedly  un- 
intelligible as  to  convey  no  sense  or  meaning  to  those  who, 
having  to  "begin  at  the  beginning,"  need  a  very  elementary 

treatise. 

And  first,  of  "  error  the  first."  I  had  always  pictured 
to  myself  Vesuvius  in  eruption  as  something  like  a  huge 
caldron  full  of  ingredients,  which,  when  fused  by  intense 


I  if 


u 


DOING  OUR  VESUYirS. 


»» 


35 


heat  to  a  boiling  point,  at  last  rose  and  ran  over  the  edge  of 
the  crater,  and  flowed  down  the  conical  sides  in  the  form 
of  lava— constantly  adding  to  the  size  of  the  mountain 
by  successive  coats  of  the  semi-fluid  matter,  deposited  in 
layers,  like  the  coats  of  an  onion.     This  is  not  at  all  ac- 
cording to  the  facts — at  least,  the  ordinary  facts — of  vol- 
canic action  :  the  lava  never,  that  I  could  learn  (and  I 
questioned  our  intelligent  head  guide,  Signor  Pasquale,  of 
Eesina,  closely  on  this  point),  breaks  over  the  top,  but  ever 
from  some  vent  or  weak  point  in  the  side  of  the  cone, 
which  is,   as  it  were,  burst  out  by  the  violent  internal 
action  *   The  present  peak  of  Vesuvius,  which  is  about  two 
thousand  feet  high,  is  a  regular  cone  all  round,  and  does 
not  contain  on  its  surface  a  single  particle  o^  flowed  lava  ; 
it  seems  all  composed  of  dark-coloured  slags,  or  cinders, 
furrowed  into  a  thousand  small  ravines  by  the  action 
of  rains  or  weather.     This  surface  presents  a  curious  con- 
trast,  something  like  those  tragi-comic  masques  which 
smile  on  one  side  of  the  face  and  frown  or  cry  at  the 
other.     Towards   Naples   and  the   sea,  whence  the  pre- 
vailing winds  blow,  it  is  dark,  frowning,   and  rugged; 
towards  the  Campagna  and  Capua,  it  presents  one  smooth 
regular  sheet  of  that  singular,  granular  light  substance 
called  ashes,  and  which  formed  the  winding-sheet  in  which 
Pompeii  and  its  treasures  lay  buried  and  preserved  for 
nigh  eighteen  hundred  years.    This  Vesuvian  ashes  is  a 

*  Notwithstanding  this  positive  assurance  of  Signor  Pasquale  some 
accounts  of  eruptions  which  I  have  seen  speak  so  decisively  of  the  lava 
breaking  over  the  mouth  of  the  cone,  that  I  qualify  the  assertion, 
although  I  own  the  idea  of  "  the  crater"  filling  up  and  brimming  over 
with  molten  matters  is,  now  that  I  have  seen  it,  an  idea  I  cannot  well 
realise  to  myself. 

d2 


■■\\ 


\\ 


1 


36 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


very  pecuHar  substance  :  it  is  granular,  and  no  amount 
of  rain  will  make  it  into  mud ;  of  a  dark-grey  colour 
naturally,  when  exposed  to  the  air  it  becomes  white 
as  sea  sand:  I  know  nothing  that  it  resembles  more 
than  the  grey  earth  used  in  foundries  for  making  moulds 
for  the  castings  ;  and  this  comparison,  drawn  from  the 
smelting-house,  suggests  another,  which,  to  such  of  my 
readers  as  have  seen  the  process  of  "  running  a  casting," 
will  (pm-vis  componere  magna)  give  a  correct  familiar  idea 
of  how  the  lava  does  flow  from  the  mountain. 

In  a  foundry  the  great  vessel  of  molten  metal  has  a 
small  vent  at  the  bottom  usually  closed  by  some  fire- 
proof  clay.     This  plug  is  broken  by  an  iron  instrument 
from  without  whenever  a  casting  is  required,  and  closed 
again  with  the  same   material   after  a   sufficient  supply 
of  the  molten   stream  has   been  run  off.     Now,  let  the 
reader  suppose  this  process  carried  out  on  the  immense 
scale  where  a  hollow  mountain  is  the  vessel,  and  that  the 
force  which  bursts  through  is  furnished  from  the  furnace- 
fires  within,  while  the  whole  operation  is  preceded  by 
the  throes,  and  thunders,  and  jets,  and  voUeys  from  the 
top,  giving   signal  that  the  volcano  is  "  getting  up   its 
stelm,"  which  at  last  forces  out  some  flawed  part  of  the 
mountain  and  breaks  through  everything,  and  he  may  have 
some  real  idea  of  the  forces  with  which  a  volcano  works, 
and  their  direction.     According  to  the  guide,  an  eruption 
never  takes  place  without  a  tremhlemeyit  de  terre,  of  more 
or  less  violence,  and  also  a  failure  of  water  in  the  number- 
less wells,  with  which  the  whole  region  of  garden-ground 
between  Naples  and  Vesuvius  is  dotted ;  it  is  reasonable 


"  DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS." 


37 


to  conclude  that  the  water  thus  subducted  from  the  wells 
of  Naples  is  drawn  in  by  some  subterranean  ducts  to  feed 
the  huge  boiler  cavern,  whose  steam  action  in  shaking  the 
mountain  tries  its  weak  points,  and  ultimately  forces  out 
one  or  more  of  them.  When  in  the  eruption  of  1638, 
before  referred  to,  seven  distinct  streams  of  lava  dis- 
charged themselves  from  as  many  orifices  upon  the  devoted 
region  beneath,  the  sight  would  have  been,  for  any  one 
who  dared  to  look  (and  forget  Pliny),  one  of  awful  magni- 
ficence. 

A  second  misconception  which  I  have  to  acknowledge, 
but  which  a  single  survey  of  the  locality  at  once  corrected, 
is  the  supposition  that  the  present  Vesuvius  is  the  same 
mountain  w^hich  eighteen  hundred  years  since  destroyed 
those  doomed  "  cities  of  the  plain,"  Herculaneum  and 
Pompeii.  This  seems  to  me  a  fallacy  which  can  scarce 
survive  a  personal  inspection  for  one  instant.  Vesuvius, 
as  it  now  stands,  rises  within  the  area  of  the  old  tised  out 
mountain,  at  one  side  of  a  great  plain  amphitheatre,  the 
"  Atria  di  Cavallo,"  while  Monte  Somna,  which  rises  and 
circles  this  plain  on  the  north  and  north-east  sides,  is 
obviously  the  shell  or  crust  of  the  original  mountain,  the 
great  mass  of  which  was  Mown  out  and  precipitated  on  the 
country  beneath  to  the  west  and  south-west  in  the  first 
recorded  convulsion  of  a.d.  79,  after  the  premonitory 
earthquake  of  a.d.  63.  Up  to  that  time  the  mountain 
would  seem  to  have  formed  a  green  and  graceful  back- 
ground to  the  cordon  of  luxurious  cities  which  gemmed 
the  margin  of  the  beautiful  bay  beneath  ;  and  we  may  take 
its  character  from  the  contemporary  epigram  of  Martial, 


\ 


'I  I 


:!    i 


88 


»> 


GLEA.NINQS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


of  which  (not  having  the  fear  of  Mr.  Addison*  or  other 
traditors  before  my  eyes),  I  scratched  a  version  v^^hile 
Bitting  among  the  cinders  and  ashes  of  Vesuvius  as  it  now 
lies  changed  and  ruined  : 

"  Hie  est  Pampineis  viridis  modo  Vesuvius  umbris, 
Presserat  hie,  madidos  nobiles  uva  laeus 
Haec  Juga,  quam  Nysae  coUes  plus  Baechus  amavit 
Hoc  nuper  Satyri  monte,  dedere  chores, 
Haec  Veneris  sedes,  Lacedaemone  gratior  illae, 
Hie  locus  Herculeo  nomine  clarus  erat 
Cuncta  jacent  flammis,  et  tristi  mersa  favilla, 
Nee  Superi  vellent  hoc  licuisse  sibi." 

Mart.  lib.  i  124. 

Here !  where  Vesuvius,  crowned  with  leafy  vine, 
From  the  pressed  grape  o'erflowed  its  vats  with  wine — 
Where  Satyrs  frolick'd  through  these  mountain  groves — 
Which  more  than  Nysa's  hill  the  Wine-God  loves — 
Which  sweeter  seat  than  Paphos  Venus  found — 
And  great  Alcides'  fame  made  classic  ground — 
All  wrapped  in  flame,  and  dark  sad  ashen  shroud, 
The  gods  bewail  the  ills  themselves  allowed. 

It  is  impossible,  in  my  judgment,  to  look  at  Monte 
Somna,  with  its  trap-dykes  standing  out  from  the  surface 
of  its  scarped  and  wall-like  sides,  without  at  once  adopting 
the  conviction  that  it  is  but  the  remains  of  the  funnel  of 
that  older  volcano,  which  carried  away  the  remainder  of  its 
furnace-shaft  when  it  burst  forth  on  the  level  country 
below,  while  the  "Atria  di  Cavallo"  may  be  likened  to 
a  flooring  over  a  vault  of  fire  and  combustibles  beneath, 
similar  to  that  which  actually  reverberates  to  a  heavy 
stamp  in  the  Solfa-terra,  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  bay. 
This  idea,  when  once  received,  gives  an  astounding  im- 
pression of  the  magnitude  of  the  scale  on  which  volcanic 
action  may  have  formerly  prevailed,  and  may  yet  again  be 


u 


"  DOING  OUR  VESUYIU8.'* 


39 


exhibited,  in  this  region ;  nay,  when  on  ascending  the  cone, 
the  eye  can  take  in  the  level  country  to  the  eastward  as  far 
as  Capua  and  Caserta,  the  conception  of  volcanic  agency 
expands  itself  still  further,  and  suggests  that  the  distant 
ranges  of  hills  which  bound  the  "  Campagna  felice"  are 
but  the  old  walls  of  extinct  volcanoes,  and  that  the  "  happy 
land"  itself  may  be  but  the  flooring,  over  gulfs  of  billowing 
molten  fire,  or  combustibles  waiting  the  explosive  agency 
at  unknown  depths  beneath ; — ^the  conception  is  a  tremen- 
dous one  to  grasp,  but  the  analogies  of  volcanic  action  bring 
it  within  the  scope  of  proha —  no,  of  jpombility. 

Another  fact  portentous  to  consider,  is  the  sympathy 
said  to  exist  between  Vesuvius  and  the  volcanic  region 
twenty  miles  off*,  at  the  other  side  of  the  bay.  Solfa-terra, 
already  alluded  to,  a  perfect  unbroken  crater,  never  known 
to  have  exploded*  within  the  historic  era,  has  yet  a  con- 
stant, subdued  volcanic  action  going  on,  in  jets  and  puffs 
of  sulphuric  and  aluminous  gases  from  the  chinks  and 

*  If  the  Solfa-terra  roared  as  loud  as  Bully  Bottom  boasted  he  could, 
and  as  other  volcanic  lions  do,  so  as  to  put  the  auditors  in  "  pity  of  their 
life,"  it  would  enforce  more  attention  to  its  real  wonders.  I  am  wrong 
in  saying  there  is  no  eruption  on  record,  for  a  (not  very  clear)  tradition 
affirms  one  to  have  taken  place  in  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century  (1198) ; 
and  I  think  it  impossible  any  one  can  ever  cross  its  area  without  feeling 
that  an  explosion  may  any  day  happen.  You  cannot  stamp  on  the  ground 
without  being  sensible  that  you  are  on  the  roof  of  an  abyss,  and  when 
you  arrive  at  the  centre  of  the  amphitheatre,  and  the  guide  taking  a  mass 
of  rock,  flings  it  forcibly  on  the  floor,  the  perceptible  shaking  of  the 
ground,  and  the  deep  hollow  sound  with  which  the  echoes  roll  away 
through  the  "vast profound"  beneath,  produce  a  curious  sensation  of  in- 
security. Proceeding  a  little  further,  you  find  jets  of  sulphuric  and 
aluminous  gases  puffing  from  the  ground  with  great  activity ;  so  that  on 
the  whole  I  think  the  visitor  must  depart  with  an  impression  of  vast 
volcanic  stores  lying  beneath  him,  only  waiting  the  necessary  chemical 
combinations  to  make  a  sensation  '^  with  a  witness." 


■     . 


40 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


crevices  of  its  floor  and  sides ;  but  it  has  been  observed, 
that  the  moment  an  eruption  of  Vesuvius  commences,  the 
Solfa-terra  becomes  quiet  until  it  is  ended,  when  it  recom- 
mences its  own  volcanic  manifestations  again.  These  tokens 
of  subterranean  correspondence  suggest  the  idea  that  a  day 
may  come  when  Naples  will  find  itself  in  the  situation  of 
exposure  to  two  fires,  and  may  wish  that  its  tutelar  saint, 
Januarius,  were  a  "  Janus  bifrons,"  that  he  might  extin- 
guish a  fire  before  and  behind  by  "  the  mere  view  of  his 
sacred  Head  /"  for  so  runs  the  legend  commemorating  his 
former  interposition  betw^een  the  city  and  the  flaming 
mountain.* 

But  en  route! — our  "  porteurs"  are  ready,  our  centaurs 
pawing  the  ashes  impatiently.  We  fastened  the  ladies  by 
shawls  and  cloaks  into  sligjit  rush-bottomed  arm-chairs, 

*  Neapolitan  Latin  is  not  of  the  clearest  construction ;  but  Neapolitan 
devotion  to  "San  Genaro"  is  very  clear  in  expression,  as  the  following 
inscription,  which  they  are  not  ashamed  to  place  on  the  principal  bridge 
of  Naples,  will  testify  : 

Divo  Januario, 

Principi 

Neapolitanorum 

Patrono, 

Ex  civium  religione 

Signum, 

Cum  omamentis. 

Quod  Montem  Vesuvium 

Ignem 

Longe  lateque  se 

EfPondentem. 

Hie !  e  sacrati  capitis 

Visione. 

X.  Kal.  Novembris, 

MDCCLXVII. 

Statim  extinxerit 

Atque  universo 

Exhilaverit. 


(( 


DOING  QUE  VESUTIUS. 


i> 


41 


constructed,  I  believe  intentionally,  with  loose  joints,  on 
the  principle  of  a  ship-lantern,  so  that  the  occupant  may 
preserve  a  perpendicular  at  whatever  angle  of  elevation 
the  bearers  may  carry  the  bearing-poles  to  which  they  are 
attached  by  strong  grass  ropes ;  the  whole  equipage  is  very 
primitive,  but,  as  we  found  it,  sufficiently  serviceable. 

For  us  gentlemen  the  preparations  were  different,  but 
equally  simple.  We  each  selected  at  will  what  we  called 
centaurs,  or  man-horses,  from  a  crowd  of  stout  contadini. 
These  went  before,  with  a  strong  cotton  band  hung  bridle- 
wise  from  the  shoulder.  You  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
hold  on  by  the  band,  pick  your  steps  among  the  cinders, 
and  aUow  your  leader  to  do  the  uphill  work  of  hauling  you 

after  him.     My  friend.  Captain  M ,  accustomed  to  the 

luxuries  of  Oriental  travel,   took  two   of  these  men  to 
his   share,  passed  the   cotton  coil   round  the   small  of 
his  back,  and  allowed  them  to  drag  him  up,  with  no  exer- 
tion on  his  part  but  that  of  picking  his  steps.     With 
an  unwise  idea  of  my  own  powers,  I  contented  myself 
with  one,  and  had  reason  to  regret  it — for  once  or  twice, 
in  the  worst  bits  of  the  ascent,  it  seemed  for  a  second 
or  two  a  very  doubtful  point  whether  my  centaur  should 
pull  me  up,  or  I  him   hack  upon  myself;  for  though 
I  selected  him  as  a  powerful  athletic  man,  his  weight  was 
nothing  to  mine ;  and,  moreover,  as  I  laboured  up  I  had 
the  mortification  to  see  my  friend  pass  me  "in  a  canter,'* 
at   about  three-parts  of  the  ascent,  with  the   cool  and 
cutting  taunt,  "  If  gentlemen  with  a  choice  of  cavalry  will 
underhorse  themselves,  they  must  take  the  consequences. 
Good-by  !  I'll  tell  them  you  are  coming !" 

TJnderhorsed,  and  hindmost  as  I  was,  we  were  all  landed 


:     1! 


"  ' ;  ill 


42 


QLEAIflKGS  AFT£E  "  QEAND  T0XJE"-I3T3. 


at  the  foot  of  the  immediate  cone  in  about  forty  minutes. 
An  hour  is  often  allotted  for  this  work,  so  that  after 
all,  we  did  very  well.  We  found  the  girls  arrived  a 
few  minutes  before  us.  Here  the  chairs  and  centaurs 
are  usually  dismissed,  and  we  prepared  for  the  further 
scramble.  I  insisted,  however,  that  my  youngest  daugh- 
ter, being  in  rather  delicate  health,  should  allow  herself 
to  be  carried  as  far  as  the  way  was  practicable.  So  she 
was — and  somewhat  beyond  it. 

I  must  observe,  that  the  views  from  Yesmdus  do  not 
improve  as  you  ascend ;  you  have  better  and  clearer  pro- 
spects from  the  Hermitage  and  points  below  it  than  from 
any  station  higher  up,  and  when  you  are  at  the  crater  it- 
self all  interest  centres  in  the  mountain,  and  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  eruptions  immediately  close  to  you. 

After  a  short  rest,  we  now  advanced  over  comparatively 
smooth  and  easy  ground  to  the  crater's  edge,  from  which 
the  smoke — I  should  rather  say  the  sulphur-steam — 
was  rising  in  great  volumes.  Vesuvius  never  smokes  ex- 
cept in  eruption  ;  a  light  white  vapour,  like  that  from  the 
escape-valve  of  a  steamer  on  arriving  in  harbour,  is  its 
ordinary  discharge.  The  wind  usually  blows  from  the  sea, 
and  our  guide,  leading  us  by  an  easy  path  to  leeward,  we 
soon  found  ourselves  in  wreaths  of  vapour,  provocative  of 
incessant  and  inevitable  coughing.  I  was  at  first  alarmed, 
but  seeing  the  guides  quite  unconcerned,  and  being  as- 
sured by  them  that  it  was  "  very  wholesome,"  we  stood 
still,  and  soon  discovered  that  a  pocket-handkerchief  held 
to  the  mouth  prevented  all  annoyance  from  the  sulphur 
vapour. 

As  soon  as  we  had  time  to  look  about  us,  we  found  our- 


"  DOING  QUE  VESUVIUS." 


43 


I 


selves  on  a  sulphur-bank  just  at  the  edge  of  the  crater; 
and  here  the  first  object  that  caught  my  attention  was  a 
lady  taking  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  interior,  from  an  eleva- 
tion at  which  I  am  bold  to  say  no  lady  ever  inspected  its 
phenomena  before.  The  bearers,  taking  my  directions  "  to 
bring  my  daughter  as  far  as  they  could"  quite  au  pied  de 
lettre,  had  stumbled  and  slipped  on  with  her  to  the  very- 
edge  of  the  crumbling  slippery  bank,  and  there  she  sate, 
in  more  peril  than  ever  M.P.  encountered  while  chairing 
through  a  hostile  mob,  for  a  slip  or  stumble  would  have 
sent  her  either  sheer  down  into  the  Vesuvius  crater,  or  on 
the  other  side  to  roll  down  to  the  level  of  the  Atria  di 
Cavallo  ;  nor  was  a  slip  an  impossibility,  for  the  soil  was 
so  hot  that  we  were  obliged  to  shift  our  ground  every 
minute,  and  the  men  were  performing  the  usual  experi- 
ment of  roasting  eggs  in  little  holes  scooped  at  our 
very  feet!  "We  soon  released  the  girl  from  her  "bad 
eminence,"  and  when  fairly  on  terra  ififirma,  we  congratu- 
lated her,  as  a  young  lady  addicted  to  the  romantic,  on 
having  taken  an  observation  from  an  altitude  probably 
never  reached  by  lady  tourist  but  herself 

We  now  advanced  somewhat  further,  so  as  to  obtain  a 
view  of  disentombed  Pompeii,  easily  distinguished  by  its 
amphitheatre,*  and  of  the  vast  plain,  studded  with  villages 

*  It  is  so  easy  to  be  wise  after  an  event,  as  Columbus  showed  when 
he  broke  the  eggy  to  the  discomfiture  of  carping  impugners  of  his  great 
discoveries.  As  one  now  looks  down  on  Pompeii  from  Vesuvius,  it  seems 
wonderful  how  it  could  have  lain  undiscovered  so  long.  Its  amphitheatre 
must  always  have  stood  up  as  a  nondescript  bulk  from  the  plain ;  the 
layer  of  ashes  which  covered  it  was  very  thin,  so  that  it  seems  unaccount- 
able that  for  1700  years  no  herdsman's  foot  should  have  stumbled  on  the 
discovery,  and  that  deeply  buried  Herculaneum  should  have  been  disen- 
tombed before  its  neighbour. 


4A 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


and  vineyards,  which  extend  into  the  interior  of  the  coun- 
try to  the  south  and  east.  The  lava  has  occasionally 
broken  out  in  this  direction,  yet  the  vast  majority  of  erup- 
tions have  been  towards  Naples  and  the  sea.  It  was  not 
lava  which  overwhelmed  Pompeii,  but  vast  layers  of  tuffa ; 
and  of  that  light  ashen  substance  already  described, — 
hence,  the  "  ruinous  perfection"  in  which  it  has  been  dis- 
entombed. Nay,  for  that  matter,  it  was  not  lava  either 
which  hermetically  sealed  up  Herculaneum.  Charles 
Dickens,  in  his  powerful  way,  takes  us  into  the  Hercu- 
laneum theatre  ;  as  it  now  stands  a  dreary  pit,  hemmed  in 
by  walls  of  monstrous  thickness,  which  he  supposes  to 
have  been  once  boiling  lava ;  and  then  calls  on  us  to  con- 
ceive that  "  this  once  came  rolling  in  and  drowned  the  city 
in  a  red  sea  of  molten  marble.'*  But  this  was  not  so ;  boil- 
ing lava  did  roll  over  the  city  in  many  a  stream  afterwards 
— Sir  William  Hamilton  counts  six  different  eruptions, 
with  formed  soil  between  each,  besides  that  which  buried 
the  city;  but  that^  as  he  convincingly  argues,  must  have  been 
effected  by,  not  lava,  but  a  liquid  mud,  formed  by  the  water 
sometimes  thrown  out  in  eruptions  in  large  quantities,  and 
which,  cementing  ashes,  pumice,  and  other  heterogeneous 
matters,  flowed  round  and  into  the  dwellings  of  the  city,  as 
into  a  matrix  or  mould,  and  ultimately  indurated  into  a  sub- 
stance, which  they  now  hew  with  axes  like  any  other  rock. 
Had  lava  been  the  agent  of  destruction,  we  should  not 
have  those  well-preserved  statues  and  delicate  frescoes  in 
the  Museo  Borbonico,  which  have  come  to  us  as  well  pre- 
served as  if  they  had  lain  enclosed  in  a  plaster  masque.  It 
appears  to  me  as  if  the  matter  which  filled  up  Hercula- 
neum must  have  been  not  unlike  the  composition  with 


"  DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS." 


45 


which  they  form  the  terrace  roofs  of  the  neighbouring 
towns  to  this  day. 

I  believe  a  clear,  leisurely  view  of  the  crater  can  never 
be  had.  Our  guides  assured  us  that  it  never  steamed  less 
than  at  the  time  of  our  visit ;  the  vapour,  though  light, 
was  incessant.  By  watching  opportunities,  a  flaw  of  wind 
would  sometimes  give  us  a  view  across  the  gulf  to  the 
opposite  wall  of  rock,  beautifully  flowered  with  sulphur 
crystals  of  astonishing  variety  and  richness  ;  then  would 
rise  a  fresh  volume  of  vapour,  forcing  us  to  turn  our  heads, 
and  submit  to  a  sulphur-steaming  all  over,  which  we  could 
only  hope  was  wholesome,  for  it  was  specially  disagreeable. 
All  this  while  we  never  got  a  glimpse  of  the  bottom,  said 
to  be  about  1200  feet  in  sheer  depth.  "We  could  only  peer 
into  a  dark  void,  forming  an  excellent  illustration  of  the 
principle  that  "  obscurity  is  a  source  of  the  sublime." 
Before  we  left  this  part  of  the  mountain,  the  guide  pointed 
out  to  us  the  results  of  a  small  eruption  of  last  year, 
the  lava  of  which  had  spread  itself  but  a  short  way  into 
the  level  of  the  Atria  di  Cavallo,  never  reaching  the  lower 
region  of  the  mountain  at  all.  I  noticed  on  this  sheet  of 
lava  two  objects  which  I  would  gladly  have  examined  more 
closely — namely,  two  little  miniature  craters,  which  rose 
in  different  places  out  of  the  mass  to  a  height  of  from 
ten  to  fifteen  feet.  They  were  in  all  respects  models  of 
the  cone  on  which  we  stood,  with  orifices  in  the  top ;  and 
I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  if  examined  with  a  geological 
eye,  they  might  afford  some  insight  into  the  secrets  of  vol- 
canic agency.  I  account  for  their  origin  in  this  wise :  that 
when  the  lava  flowed  forth,  it  either  brought  with  it  (if  that 
were  possible),  or  covered  over  in  its  flowing,  some  unfused 


\ 


M. 


46 


cc 


t? 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


combustible  material,  and  that  these  lay  under  the  mass 
until  a  fall  of  rain  or  snow  supplied  water  to  perform 
whatever  part  it  has  in  volcanic  action,  and  that  then  a 
kind  of  miniature  eruption  took  place,  and  the  burning 
matter  below  threw  up  these  little  funnels  by  a  degree  of 
the  same  force  which  formed  their  gigantic  neighbour, 
from  whose  summit  we  overlooked  them. 

Haviug  gazed  our  fill,  picked  sulpliur  specimens,  and 
rolled  cinder  masses  back  into  the  crater  until  tired,  we 
followed  our  guide  to  the  other  side  of  the  cone  to  inspect 
a  second  crater  or  funnel,  into  which,  he  assured  us,  it  was 
divided  at  bottom.  Hitherto  the  vapour  hid  tlie  boundary 
between  the  two  orifices,  which  rose  only  half-way  out  of 
the  depth,  but  when  we  came  to  the  windward  side,  we 
were  able  to  see  distinctly  that  the  mountain  was  divided 
at  bottom  into  two  funnel-shaped  hollows.  The  volcanic 
action  on  the  west  or  seaward  side  appeared  much  more 
powerful  and  nearer  to  us  than  on  the  other ;  the  smoke 
or  steam  rose  in  many  pla<;es  from  vents  or  fissures  under 
our  feet.  And  here,  for  the  first  and  only  time,  I  obtained 
a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  actual  bottom.  For  a  few 
seconds  there  was  a  complete  cessation  of  vapour,  and  I 
could  discern  a  dark,  profound  deepening  at  the  bottom 
to  a  dull,  red  heat,  over  which  a  lighter  flame  seemed  to 
flicker.  I  called  all  to  look,  but  as  I  spoke  it  was  gone ! 
The  vapour  again  rose  in  volumes,  and  never  gave  us 
another  chance;  and  presently  the  guide,  looking  west- 
ward, gave  the  word  to  descend. 

This  descent  of  Vesuvius  is  a  very  pretty  summer-day 
pastime ;  they  sell  you  cheap  prints  at  Naples  which  give 
an  excellent  idea  of  the  "  fun" — you  need  but  to  keep 


"  DOING  OUR  VESUVIUS." 


47 


your  head  well  back ;  let  your  heel  sink  into  the  ashes  as 
deep  as  it  will  go,  take  as  long  a  step  as  you  can  manage 
without  disturbing  the  centre  of  gravity,  and  then  "yo  it .'" 
and  you  will  find  the  ascent  of  an  hour  become  a  descent 
of  ten  minutes ;  people  speak  of  doing  it  in  three,  but 
these,  I  opine,  must  be  of  that  "go-ahead"  American 
school,  who  can  arrive  at  the  end  of  their  journey  the 
evening  before  they  set  out !  Again  to  recur  to  Dickens' 
description — his  adventure  of  a  night  descent  down  this 
bed  of  ashes  at  an  angle  of  60  degrees,  coated  vnth  ice ! 
must  have  been  anything  but  "fun," — no  marvel  that  one 
broken  log  was  the  result— the  real  wonder  is  how  any  of 
the  party  came  to  the  bottom  without  a  broken  neck. 

"  Ecco,  Mons.  G-uiseppe,"  said  I,  as  we  toppled  down 
upon  him  where  he  waited  with  the  ponies ;  "  e  fatto — 
the  deed  is  done." 

"  Si  signor,^^  returned  Guiseppe,  rather  gravely,  as  if  he 
thought  though  done,  it  had  been  in  a  rebellious  and  dis- 
orderly way  of  which  I  had  reason  to  be — anything  but 
proud ! 

We  were  now  quickly  back  at  the  Hermitage.  Our 
dinner,  brought  from  Naples,  was  laid  out  by  Guiseppe. 
The  Lachryma  was  supplied  by  the  quasi  Hermit ;  and  the 
girls  announced  that  they  had  "  tolerable  appetites,"  which, 
but  that  the  stock  of  provisions  was  abundant,  I  should 
have  pronounced  quite  "intolerable." 
^'  "We  have  dined ;  and  now  my  girls,  yet  unaware  of  the 
rapidity  with  which  night  falls  in  these  regions,  are  in- 
dulging expectations  of  catching  an  evening  sketch  or  so 
in  a  glowing  twilight,  when  in  a  moment  the  sun  sinks 
and  darkness  visible  comes  on.     "Ah,"  observes  one,  "I 


J 


'.i 


48 


»» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


wish  we  could  keep  that  beautiful  deep  blue  sky  a  little 
longer." 

"A  little  longer,"  rejoins  another;  "I  wish  we  could 
Tceep  it  always,  and  carry  it  to  England  with  us.** 

This  little  dialogue  reminded  me  of  a  similar  one  which 
I  had  been  just  taking  from  that  painfully  interesting 
book,  "  The  Diary  of  an  Ennuyee,"  as  the  subject  of  a 
verse-thought  on  the  fair,  but  fallen  land  in  which  we  were 
sojourning. 

*^  How  I  wish  I  could  transplant  those  skies  to  England  T 
"  Crttelle" — said  an  Italian  behind  me—"  otez-nous  notre  beau  del,  tout 
est  perdu  pour  nous." — Diary  of  an  Ennutee. 

What !  stranger,  wouldst  thou  take  away 
The  Arch  which  spans  our  sun-lit  flood? 

Stranger !  you  know  not  what  you  say — 
Leave  us  our  poor  amount  of  good. 

Tho'  skies  of  cloud  and  climate  cold 

Hang  o'er  your  wondrous  Island-home, 
Beneath  them  spring  the  free — the  bold — 

Lords  of  the  world  where'er  they  roam. 

Purpose  and  nerve  are  yours — thence  power — 

And  these  your  bracing  clime  can  give. 
We  but  bask  out  life's  listless  hour, 

We !  oh,  the  shame ! — we  doze,  you  live. 

Leave Ver  our  Bay  our  sun  to  gleam — 

Ah,  what  were  left  the  aimless  slave, 
If  reft  of  all  that  gilds  his  dream 

Between  the  cradle  and  the  grave  ? 

The  question  is  now  of  our  return  to  Eesina.  There 
stood  the  ponies— the  indefatigable,  the  unequalled — 
ready  to  take  us  down  stairs  to  Eesina  as  they  had  brought 
us  up  in  the  morning,  if  we  so  determined.  Having  no 
wish,  however,  to  test  their  sagacity  in  going  down  stairs 
in  the  dark,  and  acting  on  the  proverb,  "  the  longest  way 


ct 


DOING  QUE  VESUVIUS. 


II 


49 


round  is  the  shortest  way  home,"  we  choose  the  carriage 
road — and  these  wonderful  creatures  walk  away  with  us 
as  safely  as  ever ;  they  guide  themselves  down  to  Eesina 
through  such  a  network  of  lanes,  windings,  and  not-to-be- 
forgotten  smells  /  as  no  description  could  convey.  When 
within  the  precincts  of  the  town,  groups  of  dark-cloaked 
men  occasionally  pass  us,  but  not  a  word  of  incivility  or 
gesture  of  interruption  from  any — the  ponies  turn  of  their 
own  accord  into  the  very  court-yard  whence  they  had 
started  in  the  morning ;  the  carriage  waits ;  we  had  settled 
all  expenses  with  Signor  Pasquale  at  the  Hermitage,  and 
in  five  minutes  we  were  whirling  away  to  Naples,  where 
we  arrive  after  twelve  hours'  hard  exercise,  sufficiently 
tired,  but  still  more  satisfied  and  thankful  that  we  had 
"  done  our  Vesuvitts**  so  successfully. 


\ 


50 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  TOUR^'-ISTS. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

* 

"PCESTUM    OF    E0SE3.'* 

What  a  magic  there  is  in  the  very  touch  of  genius ! 
how  the  outlines  of  Retch z,  mere  scratches  as  they  are, 
embody  and  give  life  to  the  conceptions  of  Ms  Goethe, 
or  our  own  Shakspeare — how  the  few  finishing  scrapings 
of  the  sculptor's  chisel  convert  the  rough-chipped  block  of 
his  workman  into  the  all  but  breathing  statue  of  the 
gallery ;  to  take  a  modern  instance,  how  the  graphic  burine 
of  Richard  Doyle,  as  it  eats  into  the  copper,  contrives  to 
tell  the  character,  before  Thackeray  can  tell  the  story ;  or, 
to  go  back  to  the  days  of  old  and  our  subject  together  (for 
genius  is  of  all  time),  how  Virgil  in  one  short  sentence 
has  contrived  to  leave  a  word-picture  of  hoary  Poestum 
familiar  to  us  all,  while  more  laboured  encomiums  are 
forgotten ;  to  this  hour  his 

"  biferi  rosaria  Pcesti" 


puts  before  us,  at  a  glance,  a  sunny,  ever-blooming  land- 
scape, fresh  in  its  illusion,  after  two  thousand  years ;  while 
the  more  elaborate  notices  of  Propertiua  or  Claudian  are 
unthought  of  or  known  but  to  the  prying  scholar,  whose 


(( 


\ 


P(ESTUM  OF  BOSES. 


It 


51 


pride  it  is  to  recal  what  no  one  thinks  worth  remembering. 
The  hemistich  of  Virgil  has  passed  into  a  proverb  for  luxu- 
riant loveliness,  though  the  original  has  become  a  "myth," 
if  indeed  it  ever  had  any  other  existence  than  in  that 
power  of  the  poet's  brain  which  can 

"  Give  to  airy  nothings 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

The  flowers  of  Poestum  are  now  "  nowhere,"  and  notwith- 
standing the  enthusiasm  of  Eustace,  I  doubt  if  the  whole 
circuit  of  its  walls  can  at  this  day  produce  anything  richer 
or  sweeter  than  a  dog-rose  !  It  was  budding  spring  time 
when  we  paid  our  visit,  but,  like  Porsyth, "  we  found  no  de- 
scendants of  the  celebrated  roses  extant,"  though  in  the 
Virgilian  "  hortus-siccus"  they  flourish  still  in  all  the 
freshness  of  an  enduring  spring. 

The  excursion  to  Poestum  is,  in  all  senses,  the  most 
serious  adventure  to  which  the  environs  of  Naples  invite 
the  tourist,  and  this,  whether  we  consider  the  time,  the 
distance,  the  dangers  of  the  road  thither,  or  of  the  plague- 
den  itself  when  you  are  arrived  there.  Three  days  are  re- 
quired for  the  adventure :  one  to  be  passed  in  a  journey  of 
fifty  or  sixty  miles  (as  you  may  have  rested  at  La  Cava  or 
Salerno  the  night  before),  through  a  country  infamous 
alike  for  bad  air  and  evil-doers,  and,  when  come  to  the 
pestilential  swamp  itself,  you  are  warned  against  passing 
more  than  a  few  hours  there, — nor  is  this  a  warning 
merely  ''in  terrorem^'  for  while  at  Naples  we  shared,  in 
our  measure,  in  the  public  S3rmpathy  which  was  largely 
engaged  in  the  case  of  a  fair  young  English  girl  of  high 
birth,  struck  down  in  the  pride  of  life,  and  wasting  to 

E  2 


52 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-1STS. 


death  in  a  low  fever,  traced  to  a  six  hours'  exposure  in  the 
hot  sun  and  malaria  of  Poestum — 

"  Where,  whom  the  robber  spares,  a  deadlier  foe 
Strikes  at  unseen — and  at  a  time  when  joy 
Opens  the  heart,  when  summer  skies  are  blue, 
And  the  clear  air  is  soft  and  delicate  ; 
'Tis  then  the  demon  works — then  with  that  air, 
The  thoughtless  wretch  drinks  in  a  subtle  poison. 
Lulling  to  sleep — and,  when  he  sleeps,  he  dies." 

Rogers  (at  Pcestum). 

Nor  had  that  horror  vet  subsided  which  was  felt  at 
the  savage  murder  of  a  young  Englishman  and  his  beau- 
tiful wife,  butchered  at  noonday,  while  crossing  the  Cala- 
brian  w^astes  through  which  the  road  between  Salerno  and 
Poestum  lies.  In  all  these  circ^imstances,  and  consider- 
ing that  these  wonderful  ruins  were  rather  for  antiquaries 
than  young  ladies,  I  left  mine  to  keep  garrison,  and 
recover  the  fatigue  of  our  "  done  Vesuvius,"  while  my 

friend  Captain  M and  myself  took  train  to  Nocera, 

and  thence  proceeded  to  sleep  at  Salerno,  in  order  to  leave 
for  Pcestum  early  next  morning. 

How  absurdly  unlike  will  our  anticipations  of  people  and 
places  we  have  never  seen  sometimes  prove  on  the  view. 
I  had  somehow  imagined  to  myself  that  we  were  to  come 
upon  the  Pcestum  temples,  in  the  heart  of  "  spelunk 
woods,"  hiding  and  enshrining  the  ruins  in  a  dense,  rank 
vegetable  enclosure.  There  is  some  "tale  of  w^onder" 
about  Pcestum  having  been  lost  and  forgotten  for  centu- 
ries, untn  a  painter  seeking,  in  the  daring  of  art,  subjects 
for  his  pencil  in  the  wilderness,  stumbled  on  them  in  the 
forest,  and  brought  them  to  light  again.  No  such  thing  ; 
this  is   all   nonsense.     You  scarcely  clear  the  precincts 


"  PdSTUM  OF  EOSES." 


53 


of  Salerno  when  these  monuments  of  an  extinct  people  are 
seen  "  looming  vast  in  the  distance,"  on  the  horizon  line 
towards  the  sea;  there  are  some  undulations  of  ground, 
and  some  copse  woods  do  grow  thickly  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  Poestum  ;  but  to  any  and  all,  save  those 
slow  and  stupid  ones  who,  having  eyes,  have  no  corre- 
sponding observation,  the  majestic  ruins  rise  with  a  dignity 
which  will  not  be  hid,  and  stand  out  telling  of  a  duration 
for  w^hich  history  has  no  measure,  and  concerning  which  it 
can  offer  but  vague  conjectures.     When  the  first  imperial 
Caesar  visited   these  monuments,  standing  then,  as  they 
stand  now,  in  their  "  ruinous  perfection,"  he  was  doubt- 
less told  by  his  "Cicerone"  of  "Dorians" — "  Sybarites" 
— "  Luceni" — people  and  languages  w^hich  had  rolled  suc- 
cessively away,  and  left  these  monuments  unaffected  by 
their  decadence  ;    then   followed  the   Saracen   and    the 
Norman  marauders,  whose  rapine  spared  nothing  it  could 
reach,   but  these  also   left   the  wonderful  erections   in- 
tact ;  and  now  come  we,  "  Britanni  toto  divisi  orhe^^  to 
wonder,  in  our  turn,  over  the  relics  of  bygone  races,  and 
to  offer  our  hint,  as  probable  as  the  guess  of  any  else, 
that  they  may  belong  to  an  era  when  "  there  were  giants 
upon  the  earth" — "  men  of  renown." 

With  a  carriage,  to  leave  Salerno  at  early  dawn,  we 
engaged  a  small  basket  from  which  to  refresh  the  outward 
man  with  "  creature-comforts,"  after  taste  and  wonder 
should  have  fed  to  the  full  on  "  The  Stones  of  Poestum." 
(Why  has  not  Ruskin  been  there  ?)  Of  this  last  precau- 
tion we  should  never  have  thought,  if,  in  reply  to  a  care- 
less suggestive  question  as  to  the  "kind  of  'pranzo  we 
might  expect  at  Poestum?"  our  host  had  not  muttered 


54 


GLEANINGS  APTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


something,  with  a  shrug,  which  called  forth  an  uproarious 
laugh  from  the  militia  of  the  inn,  and  a  "  Che  dice  .?**  from 
us,  which  resulted  in  an  explanation  that  "  we  might  kill  a 
buffalo,  and  eat  him!''  but  that  this  was  the  only  chance 
for  dinner  or  supper  which   Poestum  afforded.     "Where- 
upon we  forthwith  armed  ourselves  with  a  supply  of  cold 
fowls  and  "  Capri  wine,"  and  so  escaped  being  reduced  to 
a  buffalo  hunt  as  the  alternative  for  starvation.     But,  that 
deceitful  Eustace !— what  could  he  mean  by  talking  of 
"the  Bishop's  villa" — its   "plentiful  repast,"  "excellent 
wines,"  "beds  and  rooms   all  good?"  his  whole  report 
giving  that  impression  of  an  hospitable,  companionable, 
wholesome !  neighbourhood,  which  we  in  fact  found  "  a 
delusion,  a  mockery,  and  a  snare,"  escaped  by  us  thus 
accidentally.      Could  it  be  that  Eustace  meant  to  seduce 
his  heretic  readers  and  admirers  (of  whom  I  avow  myself 
one)  into  a  situation  where  their  alternative  from  dying  of 
hunger  was  to  engage  in  "  buffalo  hunting,"  sure  to  end 
in  malaria  illness,  which  is  the  Italian  rendering  of  the 
"jungle  fever"   of  India?   could  this  be  the   object  of 
"  JSustace"  the  tolerant,*  truli/  Catholic  Eustace,  in  his 
deceptions    description  at   what  might  be   expected  at 
Pcestum  ?     No !     Let  us  do  justice  to   one   who  would 
not,   I  believe,  intentionally  deceive.      My    conjecture 
is,    that    the   "Bishop  of   Poestum,"    who,  "with   his 
Chapter,"  had,  long  ago,  emigrated  to  "  Novo,"  £ftc?  then 
keep  up  a  show  of  residence  in  his  pestilential  See,  from 
which  he  has  long  since  prudently  desisted;  and,  upon 

*  See  Appendix,  No.  II. 


"  PCESTUM  OF  EOSES." 


55 


looking  closer  to  Eustace's  narrative,  we  find  that,  though 
with  his  company,  he  drove  over  the  "smooth  turf"  to 
"  the  Bishop's  palace,"  and  though  the  obliging  Bishop 
sent  an  "obliging  chaplain  to  do  the  honours  and  make 
them  comfortable !"  yet  that  his  Lordship  took  very  good 
care  never  to  sleep  there  himself!*  and  that,  in  fact,  in 
mere  Christian  charity  and  benevolent  discourtesy,  he 
"  turned  them  out  the  very  next  day !"  The  "  villa," 
or  "  palace"  (as  you  will)  is  now  dismantled — abandoned 
to  those  "  evil  spirits  of  the  air"  who  generate  and  disport 
themselves  in  "malaria;"  none  noio  sleep  or  stay  in 
Poestum,  save  officials  at  the  post-houses,  and  one  or  two 
herdsmen,  who  lodge  in  the  towers  which  dot  the  yet 
standing  walls  at  intervals,  and  whose  wretched  families 
serve  as  "  morbid  anatomy  specimens"  to  warn  against  the 
rashness  of  abiding  irnder  malaria  influence.  Poestum  is 
now  as  truly  a  diocese — "  in  pariihus  infidelium" — as  if 
it  were  yet  occupied  by  the  heathen  and  unconverted 
Dorians. 

It  may  seem,  as  doubtless  it  is,  presumptuous  for  one 
who  is  neither  scientific  nor  professional,  to  offer  a  conjec- 
ture respecting  that  deadly  and  subtle  agent,  which  seems 

*  The  Poestum  bishop's  hospitality  in  lodging  and  entertaining  Eus- 
tace and  his  company  in  a  locality  Tvhich  he  had  abandoned  himself,  re- 
minds me  to  insert  an  epigram,  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  Pasquin,  as  I 
stood  looking  at  the  range  of  "  The  Lateran  Palace,"  deserted  by  the 
Popes  because  of  malaria,  to  be  devoted  as  an  hospital  to  the  use  of — 
the  poor  ! 

What  curious  presents  some  folks  give — 

Malaria  won't  let  Pontiffs  lie  here ; 
Though  healthy  Popes  can't  safely  live. 

Sick  beggars  are  ''  quite  safe''  to — die  here. 


\ 


56 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


to  baffle  tbe  keenest  examination  as  to  its  origin,  its  quali- 
ties, its  mode  of  acting,  of  travelling,  and,  what  is  of  more 
importance,  whether  anything,  and  what,  can  be  done  for 
its  arrest  or  prevention  ?  On  but  one  of  these  points,  and 
that  the  last,  will  I  pretend  or  presume  to  offer  my  crude 
opinion ;  but  one  at  least  of  its  generating  causes  seems  to 
me  to  lie  so  patent  to  current  observation,  that  I  must 
think  its  effect  unsuspected,  or  else,  that  even  in  nerveless 
and  purposeless  Italy,  some  combined  exertion  must  have 
been  made  towards  its  removal. 

Casting  an  eye  on  the  map  of  Italy,  from  the  "Ma- 
remma"  of  Tuscany — by  "Ostia"— along  the  extent  of  the 
"  Pontine  Marshes,"  then  (leaving  the  volcanic  region  of 
Naples,  as  it  were,  a  parenthesis)  down  the  shore  of  Ca- 
labria, the  sea  seems  to  be  constantly  raising  upon  the 
land  a  fringe  of  debris,  which  forms  a  breakwater,  strength- 
ening every  year,  and  keeping  in  the  outfall  drainage 
waters  of  the  interior ;  within  this  long  line  of  coast  flow 
at  intervals,  through  long  diluvial  plains,  sluggish  rivers, 
which  would  give  at  best,  and  with  all  the  aids  and 
appliances  of  science  and  labour  to  help  them,  but  tole- 
rable outfall  for  the  waters  of  the  regions  through  which 
they  flow.  But  now,  as  they  loiter  on  their  way — "  me" 
lancholy" — "  slow" — "  cribbed,  cabined,"  impeded  by  an 
antagonist  and  unchecked  natural  action,  with  no  industrial 
spur  to  their  own  activity,  their  drainage  is  immeasurably 
insufficient ;  hence  a  vast  body  of  stagnating  w^ater  is  re- 
tained and  diff'used  through  the  interior  of  the  country, 
forming  extensive  swamps,  where,  under  the  powerful  influ- 
ence of  a  southern  sun,  rank,  noxious  vegetation  springs  up, 
in  process  of  time  its  fibres  decompose,  its  gases  exhale !  here 


"PCESTUM  OF  ROSES." 


57 


we  stop,* — and  leave  it  to  the  chemist  to  examine  how 
these  act  in,  with,  or  upon  the  atmosphere  ;  how  the  mias- 
mata, which  render  vital  air  lethal,  combine,  or  are  carried 
by  the  common  air,  whether  chemically  or  mechanically, 
we  know  not — we  pretend  not  to  decide — but  here  is,  we 
presume  to  suggest,  a  natural  cause  for  a  curse,  said  to  be 
annually  extending  its  invasions  over  the  fair  land  of 
Italy — mastering  as  we  are  told,  "  Rione"^  after  "  Bione'^ 
of  Imperial  Eome  itself.  Some  Popes,  with  vigorous  will, 
and  better  intention  than  knowledge,  have  attempted, 
within  their  own  estates  of  the  Church,  to  grapple  with 
the  withering  evil,  but  it  still  eludes  and  advances  upon 
them,  ejects  them  from  their  palaces,  and  renders  a  "  bold 
peasantry,  a  country's  pride,"  an  impossibility.  K  this 
destroyer  can  be  grappled  or  dealt  with,  it  must,  I  believe, 
be  under  the  conditions  and  penalties  of  the  primeval 
curse,  and  in  the  "sweat  of  the  brows"  of  better  nerved 
and  more  energetic  men  than  the  popedom,  or  any  other 
power  in  "  sad  and  sunken  Italy,"  is  likely  to  command 
for  sanitary  purposes.  I  deliberately  affirm  that  a  few  regi- 
ments of  ^''  navvies'^  (wdth  something  of  the  spirit  and  steadi- 
ness of  those  "Saxons"  who  lately  left  the  English  shores 

*  One  of  the  most  mysterious  characters  of  the  malaria  is,  that  it  is 
said  to  give  no  warning  of  its  presence  by  its  smell.  I  remember  passing 
over  several  tracts  of  country  where  I  should  prima  Jhcie  have  affirmed 
that  I  was  drinking  in  malaria,  from  the  close  offensive  vegetable  smell 
of  which  I  was  sensible — and  yet  was  afterwards  informed  that  these 
were  by  no  means  unhealthy  localities — while  many  parts  of  the  Cam- 
pagna,  hard,  fertile,  needing  no  drainage,  and  perfumed  with  countless 
flowers,  was  declared  to  be  "  as  the  valley  of  death"  for  any  one  lin- 
gering in  it ;  it  seems  to  be  a  generally  received  opinion  that  the  noxious 
gas  is  borne  on  the  atmbsphere  mechanically,  and  not  in  chemical  combi- 
nation with  it ;  but  all  speculation  seems  but  a  "  grand  guess." 


58 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEA.ND  T0UB'*-ISTS. 


to  carry  a  railway  up  the  heights  of  Sebastopol !),  devoted 
under  scientific  direction  to  open  up  the  outfall  drainage  on 
the  west  coast  of  Italy ^  would  do  more  to  remedy  the  malaria 
curse,  whatever  its  nature  may  be,  than  all  that  has  hitherto 
been  wasted  in  desultory  and  iU-directed  attempts  to  effect 
this  object. 

Leaving  Salerno  at  early  dawn,  we  drove  through  a 
suburb  which  skirts  its  bay ;  and  here  I  saw  at  every  side 
of  me  one  of  the  things  which  we  must  come  to  Italy  to 
see — I  mean  the  solution,  or,  at  least,  the  explanation,  of 
those  fables  of  ancient  mythology  which  have  engaged  our 
schoolboy  wonder.  Who  has  not  read  of  "  The  Gardens 
of  the  Hesperides  ?" — we  were  driving  through  them !  Of 
their  golden  fruit  ? — it  was  hanging  aU  round  us !  Of 
their  guardian  dragon  ? — he  was  roaring  and  hissing  as  we 
passed.  Yes!  here  were  the  very  gardens  blooming  as 
they  bloomed  thousands  of  years  since,  and  within  hung 
the  very  golden  fruit,  glittering  in  the  morning  sun,  from 
trees  bowed  beneath  the  weight  of  deep  yeUow  oranges, 
rich  and  tempting  to  look  at,  but  better  I  fear  to  view 
than  to  taste,  for  the  Calabrian  orange  does  not  rate 
highly  in  the  estimate  of  commerce.  And  there  was  the 
very  dragon  roaring  and  keeping  watch  as  of  old — for 
nothing  is  more  easy  to  conceive,  than  that  in  the  twilight 
of  enterprise  and  knowledge,  the  mariner,  coasting  along 
the  Syren-haunted,  rock-girdled  coast,  and  as  yet  un- 
learned in  the  art  of  landing  through  the  surf,  as  in  the 
axiom  that  "all  is  not  gold  that  glitters!"  should  have 
carried  home  marvellous  tales  of  the  riches  to  be  had  for 
gathering,  if  the  dragons  of  the  deep,  »which  reared  their 
crests,   and  yawned  and   foamed  and   hissed  along  the 


"  P(ESTUM  OF  EOSES." 


59 


\ 


sounding  shore,  could  be  charmed  to  sleep.  As  little 
doubt  is  there  that  the  Hercules  of  this  Pable  must  have 
been  some  venturous  feUow,  who,  donning  a  shooting- 
jacket  of  many  pockets  (history  calls  it  Zio^tskin,  but  this 
must  have  been  a  mistake  for  "bearskin'*  cloth),  and 
taking  advantage  of  a  calm  day — ^wind  off  shore,  or  a  lull 
in  the  swell — dashed  through  the  surf,  made  a  foray  on 
the  golden  fruit,  and  was  off  again  with  his  pockets  well 
filled  with  oranges,  wherewith  to  astonish  his  companions 
on  board,  and  "the  natives  at  home."  Such  are  the 
shrunken  dimensions  and  prosaic  reality  to  which  the 
glowing  pictures  of  fabulous  history  reduce  themselves, 
when  viewed  in  the  noon-day  light  of  modem  observation 
and  knowledge.  Thus  seen,  Avernus  is  a  mere  volcanic 
hole — the  monster  Scylla  with  its  raging  jaws,  but  the 
bugbear  of  some  "  fresh-water  sailor,"  fooHshly  caught  in 
the  Strait  of  Messina  at  "half-tide  of  ebb;"  and  Cha- 
rybdis,  on  the  other  side,  "  no  better  or  no  worse ;"  while 
the  golden  gardens  of  the  ancients  dissolve  into  groves  of 
"  chany  oranges,"  even  as  the  gold  and  silver  chariot  of 
Prince  Charming  in  the  paatomime  turns  into  tinsel  and 
foil  when  we  get  a  peep  thereat  in  the  disenchanting  light 
of  a  morning  rehearsal. 

Two  roads  lead  from  Salerno  to  Poestum :  one  for  the 
very  cautious,  who  dread  either  bad  air  and  banditti,  skirts 
the  mountains,  and  passes  through  the  villages  and  towns 
built  above  the  level  at  which  the  malaria  is  said  to  become 
innoxious ;  another  leads  more  directly  over  the  plains ; 
and  hearing  that  it  was  in  good  travelling  order,  and  being 
quite  equal,  both  for  self  and  companion,  to  sing  the  "  can- 
tdbit  vacuus^ ^  of  Juvenal,  we  determined  to  adventure  it, 


60 


K 


1» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


and  made  our  journey  in  perfect  safety,  without  an  in- 
cident save  that  of  passing  the  "  Salaris"  by  a  ferry-boat 
as  primitive  as  that  which  conveyed  Charon's  shadi/  freights 
over  the  Styx.  As  we  crossed  the  river  we  saw  everywhere 
traces  of  that  natural  process  still  going  on,  which  thou- 
sands of  years  since  had  been  the  subject  of  Pliny's  obser- 
vation, and  thousands  of  years  before  had  furnished  from 
"wood,  hay,  stubble,"  the  material  for  the  giant  edifices 
of  Pcestam  ;  "  virgulta  et  folia  in  Silaro  immersa  lapi- 
descunt'^  is  the  statement  of  the  naturalist ;  and  the  twigs 
and  grass  which  once  fringod  the  banks  of  the  Salaris  are 
now  traceable  in  the  monster  columns  of  the  adjacent 
temples,  as  distinct  and  preserved  as  if  petrified  but  yes- 
terday. Eustace,  who  had  lived  and  observed  before  the 
era  of  the  ^^  ologies,''  was  evidently  no  geologist!  His 
remark  upon  the  material  of  these  surprising  structures  is 
merely  that  "  they  are  all  built  of  a  porous  stone,  of  a  light, 
or  rather  yellow-grey,  in  many  places  perforated  and  worn 
away^i?)  And  he  elsewhere  repeats  the  strange  sugges- 
tion of  Wilkins,  who,  "  in  conjunction  with  other  travel- 
lers, supposes  the  pillars  of  Poestum  to  have  been  covered 
with  a  sort  of  plaster  or  stucco,  which,  by  its  long  dura- 
tion, seems  to  have  acquired  the  hardness,  consistency, 
and  certainly  has  the  appearance,  of  the  stone  mentioned.'* 
This  is  all  pure  absurdity.  Wilkins  may  have  been  an 
exact  measurer  of  dimensions  and  ground  plans,  but  he 
could  not  have  been  an  acute  observer  of  geological  phe- 
nomena if  he  made  such  a  supposition  as  to  the  pillars  of 
Poestum.  Forsyth,  with  closer  observation,  "  distinguished 
the  petrified  tubes  of  roots  and  plants  in  every  column." 
The  truth  is  that  the  travertine  stands  this  day  as  it  was 


"P(ESTTTM  OF  ROSES." 


61 


erected,  porous  and  cork-like  to  look  at,  and  yet  in  reality 
imperishable ;  and  what  Eustace  mistook  for  weather-wear 
is  but  the  original  composition  of  this  stone,  the  quality  of 
which  very  probably  determined  the  order  of  architecture 
used  in  the  construction  of  these  edifices.  Whether  the 
builders  were  sufficiently  advanced  in  architectural  know- 
ledge to  be  able  to  select  the  severe  simplicity  of  the  Doric 
in  preference  to  other  more  ornamental  orders,  is  matter 
of  doubt ;  yet  their  choice  must  at  all  events  have  been 
limited,  inasmuch  as  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  have 
executed  any  of  the  niceties  of  more  elaborate  orders  in 
the  coarse  material  they  had  to  work  with.  Eorsyth's 
remark  is  obviously  just,  that  Phidias,  having  the  Pentelic 
quarries  at  his  command,  could  select  and  execute  his  plan 
for  a  temple  from  the  more  refined  and  elegant  orders  of 
architecture,  when  remote  colonists,  with  coarser  materials, 
were  of  necessity  confined  to  more  simple  structures  and 
a  ruder  plan.     But  more  of  this  hereafter. 

Crossing  the  undulating  plains  which  separate  Salerno 
from  the  ruins,  I  became  sensible  of  a  singular  impression, 
which  I  shall  endeavour  to  explain  in  order  to  enable  my 
readers  to  consider  whether  they  may  not  sometimes  have 
experienced  the  like.  The  feeling  I  allude  to  is  that  which, 
in  passing  through  a  perfectly  new  scene,  afiects  us  with 
remembrances  as  of  some  former  state  of  existence,  and 
renders  objects  which  we  know  we  have  never  before  looked 
on  with  our  bodily  organs,  as  little  strange  to  us  as  the 
environs,  or  familiar  faces,  of  our  own  home.  Lying  back 
in  a  half  dreamy  state  in  the  carriage,  as  we  traversed  a 
plain  dotted  with  herds  of  buffaloes  and  goats,  and  occa- 
sionally sinking  into  deep  dells  fringed  with  broom  and 


\ 


62 


>» 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


gorse  in  young  flower,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  I 
had  seen  all  this  hefore  !  And  when  a  train  of  mules, 
whose  tinkling  bells  I  heard  before  they  appeared,  slowly 
emerged  from  one  of  these  dells,  and  a  brown-coated, 
bare-headed  friar  riding  towards  his  convent,  perched  on 
a  neighbouring  eminence,  slowly  disappeared  into  another, 
though  the  whole  was  new  to  my  visual  organs,  as  it  was 
picture-like  and  foreign,  yet  I  felt  as  familiar  with  the 
scene  and  landscape  as  if  it  was  one  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  look  upon  every  day  of  my  life.  The  first  time  I  expe- 
rienced this  sense  of  familiarity  with  strange  things  and 
places  was  on  my  first  visit  from  the  Emerald  Isle  to 
England.  In  the  good  old  coaching  days — now  gone  for 
ever — a  traveller  had  time  to  look  about  him,  and  I  well 
remember  that  every  old  tumble-down  bam — every  farm- 
yard, with  its  horse-pool  and  trough — the  carter's  boys, 
"  driving  their  team  afield" — all,  all  seemed  like  old  friends 
to  me  a  total  stranger.  This  was  very  perplexing  for 
awhile,  and  induced  a  half-asleep,  half-awake  kind  of  con- 
sciousness which  I  could  not  analyse,  until  at  last  it  oc- 
curred to  me  that  it  was  caused  by  the  homely  magic  of 
Gainsborough's  pencil,  which  has  transferred  the  farm-yard 
life  of  England,  first  to  his  pictures,  thence  to  prints,  and 
thence  to  the  minds  of  all  who  have  once  looked  on  his 
truthful  representations.  It  was  in  a  similar  feeling  of 
familiarity  that  I  now  looked  on  this  Calabrian  landscape, 
though  from  what  original  it  had  painted  itself  upon  my 
mind's  eye  I  could  not  for  a  long  time  recollect,  but  at 
last  I  found  it  in  the  following  word-picture  from  the 
"Painter's  Adventure,"  in  the  "Traveller's  Tales"  of 
Washington  Irving ; 


"  PffiSTUM  OP  ROSES." 


63 


"  It  was  now  about  noon,  and  everything  had  sunk  into 
repose,  like  the  bandit  that  lay  sleeping  before  me.  The 
noontide  stillness  that  reigned  over  these  mountains,  the 
vast  landscape  below,  gleaming  with  distant  towns,  and 
dotted  with  various  habitations  and  signs  of  life,  yet  all  so 
silent,  had  a  powerful  effect  upon  my  mind.  The  inter- 
mediate valleys,  too,  which  lie  among  the  mountains,  have 
a  peculiar  air  of  solitude.  Few  soimds  a/re  heard  at  mid- 
day to  break  the  quiet  of  the  scene.  Sometimes  the  whistle 
of  a  solitary  muleteer,  lagging  with  his  lazy  animal  along 
the  road  which  winds  through  the  centre  of  the  valley — 
sometimes  the  faint  piping  of  a  shepherd's  reed  from  the 
side  of  the  mountain — or  sometimes  the  hell  of  an  a^s  pacing 
slowly  along,  followed  hy  a  monk  with  hare  feet  and  hare 
shining  head,  and  carrying  provisions  towards  his  convent. ^^ 

The  whole  picture  of  "  still  life"  drawn  in  the  foregoing 
passage  might  probably  be  stereotyped  for  many  an  Italian 
landscape,  but  it  could  not  have  been  more  exact  or  recog- 
nisable (especially  that  portion  in  italics)  if  it  had  been 
written  expressly  for  the  mid- way  and  mid-day  scene  of 
our  journey  from  Salerno  to  Poestum. 

But  pass  we  now  into  Poestum.  The  high  road  through 
Calabria  southwards  enters  by  one  gate  of  the  deserted  city 
and  passes  out  by  another.  "We  call  it  city  by  courtesy, 
for  no  trace  of  man  or  man's  habitation  remains  save  the 
three  great  temples  (and  these  seem  rather  made  for  and 
by  an  extinct  giant  race  than  the  men  of  our  degenerate 
days).  The  circuit  of  the  walls  is  still  complete,  studded 
at  regular  intervals  with  watch-towers,  in  which  the  herds- ^ 
men,  who  now  guard  the  place,  nestle  and  pine  with  their 
Jivid  plague-stricken  families ;  but  the  whole  looks  more 


\ 


64 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


like  those  ancient  "  deer-parks"  on  which  one  sometimes 
stumbles  in  travel,  where  the  enclosure  remains,  though 
the  "  disparked"  land  has  been  consigned  to  the  grazier, 
and  the  family  to  whose  estate  it  was  a  feudal  appendage 
is  blotted  out  for  ever. 

Leaving  our  carriage  at  the  "  Osteria"  bv  the  gateway, 
we  walked  slowly  towards  the  huge  monuments  which  rose 
grim  and  lone  in  the  midst  of  the  desolation.     Unless  you 
have  the  misfortune  to  time  your  visit  so  as  to  be  "  pestered 
by  some  of  the  popinjays"  of  travel,  there  is  nothing  to 
disturb  the  *^  severi  religio  loci,''  and  my  friend  and  I 
agreed  to  take  our  separate  routes  of  observation,  and  to 
meet  and  "  report  progress"  in  the  portico  of  what  (es- 
chewing the  historic  doubts  of  cavillers)  we  shall  call  the 
"  Temple  of  Neptune,"  or  centre  building  of  the  three.     I 
shall  omit  (I  hope  to  the  satisfaction  of  my  readers)  all 
attempt  to  expatiate  upon  the  architectural  beauties  or 
defects  of  these  great  structures ;  those  learned  or  curious 
in  the  matter  may  have  recourse  to  the  condensed  learning 
of  Forsyth,  although  to  read  him  intelligently  requires 
some  previous  search  into  Vitruvius,  as  to  the  distinction 
between  the  "P^r^p^^mr*  and  the  '' BypteraV  order  of 
temples — the  proportions  between  the  ^^  pycnostyW  and 
the  other  species  of  ^^  inter columniat mis'' — the  differences 
between  Grecian  and  Latin  Doric.     I  trust  the  generality 
of  my  readers  will  be  satisfied  by  my  disposing  of  this 
branch  of  the  subject  in  the  brief  petition  of  Mr.  Shandy, 
"  Of  all  the  cants  in  this  canting  world,  defend  me  from 
the  cant  of  criticism;"  and  I  proceed  to  offer  a  few  re- 
marks upon  the  general  effect  of  these  buildings  on  an 
admiring  but  unscientific  spectator. 


"PCESTUM  OF  EOSES." 


65 


Whether  through  ignorance  or  intention,  each  and 
all  of  those  buildings  seem  to  have  attained  effect  and 
duration,  by  a  disregard  of  the  exactness  of  Yitruvius' 
rules;  neither  in  number,  position,  nor  proportion,  do 
their  pillars  conform  to  his  standards  of  perfect  art. 
These  departures  from  rigid  rule,  though  slight,  are  pro- 
bably not  the  result  of  ignorance,  or  accident,  for  it  is 
confessedly  this  very  violation  of  rule  which  confers  upon 
these  remarkable  temples  the  characters  of  grandeur, 
extent,  and  durability,  which  impress  the  beholder  with 
awe,  and  invest  them  with  an  air  of  antiquity,  reaching 
into  the  ages  of  fable.  Disregarding  all  rule,  the  columns 
are  so  arranged  relatively  to  each  other  that,  from  what- 
ever point  of  view  we  approach  them  (excej^t  the  front), 
they  present  the  appearance  of  a  serried  grove  of  pillars, 
which  deceive  and  defy  calculation  as  to  their  number; 
and  when  we  do  approach  in  front,  the  beholder  is,  as  it 
were,  compelled  to  moderate  his  pace  to  that  of  a  solemn 
procession  as  he  advances  towards  those  massive  CQlumns, 
which,  if  thicker  than  they  should  be  according  to  line, 
plummet,  and  established  proportions,  seem  only  adequate 
to  bear  up  that  ponderous  entablature  and  those  enormous 
architraves  which  we  feel  would  have  crushed  substruc- 
tures of  finer  proportions  long  ages  since. 

I  ranged  the  three  buildings  with  my  eye  as  accurately 
as  I  could,  and  with  a  slight  divergence  in  that  nearest 
the  gate,  their  fronts  lie  so  completely  in  tJie  same  plane 
that  we  may  conclude  they  all  formed  part  of  one  uni- 
form architectural  design;  and  between  the  first  and 
second  temples  as  you  approach  from  the  north,  are 
some  bramble-covered  ruins,  remains  of  a  destroyed  struc- 


I'* 


y-i\ 


66 


GLEA.NINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0UR'*-IST8. 


ture,  forming  probably  part  of  the  same  plan,  to  which 
fancy  or  conjecture  has  given  names ;  but  without  exca- 
vation neither  shape  nor  design  can  be  determined  with 
any  accuracy.    Mr.  Eustace  has  noticed  the  "  substruc- 
tures"  upon  which  these  temples  stand,  as  well  intro- 
duced to   give   due   elevation  and  relief  to  the  masses 
above  them  ;  but  he  does  not  notice  how  much  of  the 
effect  must  be  lost  by  the  accumulation  of  soil,  which 
through  ages  has  been  bringing  down  the  temples  to  a 
level  of  the  turf,  or  rather  raising  the  turf  upon  them. 
I    never    saw    in    that    land    of   excavations,    Italy,    a 
place  where  a  little  outlay  in  removing  the  debris  of 
ages  would  be  likely  to  be  more  richly  rewarded  than  at 
Poestum.     I  once  stood  by  in  the  Eoman  Forum  when 
some  labourers,  set  to  work  by  Prince  Torlonia,  came  to 
the  area  of  an  old  Eoman  court-house,  and  there,  graved 
upon  the  flagging,  they  disclosed  to  us  the  traces  of  the 
children's  games  of  eighteen  hundred  years  since,  scraped 
upon  the  stone,  and  not  dissimilar  to  our  own  school- 
game  of  "Fox  and  Geese!"     This  was  an  interesting 
discovery  to  be  eye-witness  to,  made,  as  it  was,  at  the 
expense  of  excavating  tons  and  yards  deep  of  overlying 
rubbish ;  but  what  is  it  in  comparison  to  the  possibility 
that,  after  working  down  a  few  feet  in  the  area  before  the 
Poestum  temples,  we  might  come  on  traces  of  how  the 
Dorian  children  played  marbles !  or  in  what  games  little 
Sybarite  scamps  had  idled  away  their  time  while  loitering 
from  school  in  the  market-place,  at  a  period  beyond  the 

historic  era ! 

Since  the  days  of  Eustace  and  Forsyth,  a  very  little 
trouble  has  uncovered  vestiges,  proving  demonstratively 


u 


POESTUM  OF  ROSES. 


j» 


67 


the  truth  of  the  assertion  that,  when  Home  and  her  colo- 
nies were  young,  these  giant  structures  were  hoar  and 
obsolete.  Somewhat  to  the  south-east  of  the  temples, 
little  more  labour  than  sufficed  to  remove  the  turf  has 
given  to  light  the  line  of  an  ancient  Eoman  street  and  its 
house-floors,  executed  in  rude  mosaic,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  villas  of  Pompeii ;  the  workmanship  and  designs  are 
alike  rude,  and,  however  they  might  interest  one  elsewhere, 
methought,  under  the  shadows  of  the  sublime  edifices  near, 
they  seemed  poor  and  mean ;  but  the  clearest  proof  that 
these  remains  were  the  work  of  some  insensate  and  dege- 
nerate moderns  is,  that^the  line  of  street  is  laid  down  with- 
out any  regard,  or,  one  might  say,  deference,  to  the  noble 
models  before  them ;  prolonged  in  the  direction  of  the 
ancient  edifices,  the  line  of  street  would  cut  the  Temple 
of  Neptune  at  an  acute  angle !  And  the  Eoman  colo- 
nists of  Poestum  would  seem  to  have  had  no  more  sense 
of  the  grandeur  of  the  monuments  under  which  they 
''squatted''  than  the  nomadic  Arab  feels  for  the  ruins  of 
"  Tadmor  in  the  wilderness."  To  any  one  possessed  of  an 
"  eye  that  could  heed,"  the  laying  down  of  the  Eoman 
street  athwart  the  front  of  the  adjacent  temples  must  have 
the  same  disagreeable  effect  as  a  picture  hanging  awry 
upon  a  wall ! 

As  to  any  speculations  on  the  uses  of  the  Poestum  tem- 
ples, they  seem  all  vague  conjecture.  The  first  and  nearest 
the  gate  is  called  the  Temple  of  Ceres ;  the  next,  the 
grandest  and  best  preserved,  that  of  Neptune,  as  the  pre- 
siding deity  of  ancient  Possidonia;  while  the  last  and 
largest,  perplexing  as  it  is  from  a  construction  different 
from  any  known  remains  of  antiquity,  namely,  a  central 

f2 


68 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUfi"-ISTS. 


row  of  pillars,  dividing  it  down  its  length,  has  been  va- 
riously called  a  "  Hall  of  Justice,"  an  "  Exchange !"  and  a 
"  Temple,''  dedicated  to  two  divinities,  "  names  unknown  !'* 
No  one  speculation  has  more  basis  in  recorded  history 
than  the  other,  while  the  building  itself  stands  as  a 
huge  puzzle  for  posterity,  possibly  to  be  understood  or 
explained  hereafter,  if  ever  an  energy,  not  native,  shall 
come  to  be  infused  into  the  operations  of  the  Neapolitan 
government  and  the  men  of  "  sad  and  sunken  Italy,"  over 

whom  it  rules.  ' 

One  present  puzzle,  sufficient  for  the  day  and  for  me, 
lies  within  the  area  of  the  Basilica  (so  to  caU  it).  The 
interior  row  of  pillars  is  imperfect*;  two  giants  have  fallen 
out  of  line ;  their  capitals  lie,  of  monster  bigness,  on  the 
ground  ;  and  as  it  is  said  «  ea^  pede  Hercules^  so  we  may 
exclaim,  ''ex  capitulo  columen T  If  such  be  the  heads, 
vfhat  must  the  carcases  have  been  ?  But  where  are  the 
carcases  ?  Were  they  carried  away  ?  whither— for  what 
purpose— or  by  whom  ?  "  Athenian  Aberdeen,"  that  "  tra- 
veUed  thane,"  who  despoHed  the  Acropolis,  never  pene- 
trated to  Pcestum,  that  I  am  aware  of:  we  have  heard  of 
Goths,  who  have  broken  up  ancient  sarcophagi  for  the 
lime-kiln !  but  the  travertine  of  Pcestum  could  scarce  have 
been  put  to  this  "  vile  use."  The  piUars  are  gone-what 
can  have  been  made  of  them  ?  There  were  not  even  Bar- 
herini  here  to  do  harharian  work  in  degrading  the  mate- 
rials of  a  noble  ruin  into  the  erection  of  a  "  famHy  man- 
sion :"*  there  could  not  have  been  a  "  hue  and  cry,"  much 

•  "  Quod  nonfecerunt  Barbari,  fecere  BarherinV'  has  passed  into  a  pro- 
verb of  reproach  for  a  noble  famUy  at  Rome;  and  none  can  look  at  the 
clumsy  mass  of  the  Barberini  Palace,  without  thinking  it  a  sorry  ex- 


(i 


PCESTUM  OF  EOSES. 


t» 


09 


less  one  efficient  "  detective"  in  Calabria,  when  the  Pces- 
tum pillars  were  abstracted,  stolen,  "  lost,  or  mislaid." 

The  walls  and  gates  of  Pcestum  rather  disappointed  me. 
They  have  been  called  "  Cyclopean :"  they  have  nothing 
of  that  character  •  they  are  well  and  solidly  built ;  but 
they  seem  to  have  been  laid  rather  in  the  "  courses  "  of 
modern  masonry  than  in  the  "  polyhedral"  fashion  of  the 
Cyclopean  structures.  The  only  remaining  arched  gate- 
way is  of  very  plain  construction  and  modest  proportions  ; 
and  when  Eustace  speaks  (though  not  very  distinctly)  of 
this  "  rampart"  as  of  "an  elevation  of  more  than  forty 
feet !"  he  seems  to  exaggerate  his  description  beyond  all 
intelligible  grounds  of  explanation :  I  don't  think  any  of 
the  towers,  which  rise  at  intervals  above  the  level  of  the 
walls,  could  ever  have  exceeded  thirty  feet  at  the  utmost, 
and  the  wall  itself  must  have  ranged  at  a  much  lower  level. 

While  we  loitered  under  the  arch  of  the  Pcestum  wall,  the 
livid  urchins  from  the  adjacent  watch-tower  came  crowd- 
ing around  us,  holding  out  their  long  thin  fingers  for  that 
dole,  which  I  believe  every  Italian  child  asks  instinctively. 

change  for  the  "  ruinous  perfection"  of  the  "  missing  parts"  of  the  Coli- 
seum, popularly  supposed  to  be  built  into  the  pile.  This  is,  however,  a 
mistake:  the  origin  of  the  Barberini  reproach  had  reference  to  the 
spoliation,  not  of  the  Coliseum  but  of  the  Pantheon  cupola,  from  which 
the  "  Barberini  Pope,"  Urban  VIII.  (a.d.  1623-44)  plundered  the  bronze 
panelling  to  the  weight  of  450,000  lbs.,  in  order  to  convert  it  into  the 
grotesque  Baldachino  of  St.  Peter's.  This  outrage,  which  must  have 
endangered  the  stability  of  the  noble  dome  of  the  Pantheon,  was  effected 
at  a  cost  of  20,000Z. 

It  is  not  in  the  Barberini  Palace,  but  in  the  Palazzo  di  Venezia,  built 
by  Paul  II.  (Barbo,  a  Venetian),  and  the  huge  and  now  dismantled  Pa- 
lazzo Farnese,  descended  to  the  Neapolitan  Bourbons  through  Elizabeth 
of  Farnese  (built  by  the  Farnese  Pope,  Paul  III.),  that  we  are  to  look 
for  the  abstracted  blocks  of  the  great  work  of  Trajan. 


70 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0UR"-ISTS. 


As  we  looked  on  their  sea-green  faces,  swollen  bellies, 
and  spindled  limbs,  we  received  so  forcible  a  proof  of  the 
poisonous  nature  of  the  air  they  lived  in,  and  we  were  in- 
haling, that  we  determined  to  loiter  no  longer  in  this  pes- 
tilential region ;  therefore,  foregoing  our  first  intention  to 
pick  our  chicken  bones  under  the  shadow  of  the  peristyle 
of  the  Temple  of  Neptune,  we  decided  to  make  our  start 
at  once,  and  to  enjoy  owe  pranzo  in  the  carriage :  so,  making 
our  way  to  the  post-house,  we  took  once  more  to  the  road, 
and  evening  saw  us  most  comfortably  housed  in  the  "  Al- 
bergo  di  Londra,"  beyond  "  La  Cava,"  a  position  which, 
for  external  scenery  and  internal  comfort,  I  venture  to 
commend  to  future  vayageurs  to  Poestum  as  a  halting-place 
indisputably  preferable  to  any  which  Salerno  has  to  ofier. 


"  CAMPO  SANTO  DI  POVERI,"  NAPLES. 


71 


CHAPTER  IV. 


it 


5) 


CAMPO  SANTO  DI  POVERI,      NAPLES. 


"  To  the  Campo  Santo,"  said  I,  seating  myself  in  one  of 
the  nondescript  street  vehicles,  drawn  by  impossible  horses 
— brutes  of  which  you  would  "  a  priori  pronounce  that 
none  of  them  could  survive  one  mile  of  the  many  through 
which  they  gallop  daily.  The  driver  nodded  intelligence, 
and  we  entered  the  "  Strada  di  Toledo,"  that  characteristic 
thoroughfare  of  Naples,  which  is,  from  dawn  to  dark,  what 
Fleet-street  is  from  four  to  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
with  the  slight  difference  that  one  is  all  business,  the  other 
all  idleness ;  but  its  roar  and  tumult  are  intensified  by 
Italian  vivacity,  the  embroilments  and  blocking  up  of  the 
way  are  aggravated  by  the  absence  of  all  semblance  of  foot- 
path—for the  Neapolitan  enjoys  in  perfection  what  the 
Frenchman  calls  "  la  totalite  de  la  rwe"— and  I  defy  the 
most  absent  man  on  earth  to  abstract  himself  from  all 
interest  in  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  full  tide  of  life 
which  whirls  and  eddies  round  him.  Such  contrasts,  too ! 
Now  a  mountebank — now  a  monk— now  a  flaunting  equi- 
page—now a  flambeau' d  funeral,  goes  past ;  roaring  laugh- 
ter at  "  PulcinelW  (greatly  droll  on  his  parent  earth) 


in 


72 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


mingles  with  a  roaring  "Z)e  Frofundis'^  from  the  confra- 
ternity of  brown,  frousy,  sandalled  officials,  who  jostle  and 
stumble  their  way  through  the  throng,  heralding  some 
corpse  to  its  last  home,  their  great  tapers  flaring  in  the 
sun-light,  and  dropping — not  grace,  but  melted  wax— on 
the  passers-by  ;  while  attendant  urchins — incipient  lazza- 
roni — creep  in  the  wake  of  each  burly  brother,  and  try  to 
catch  and  treasure  up  the  droppings  of  their  ill-held  funeral 
lights.  High  above  all  lies  the  dead  man .'  borne  aloft  in 
full  holiday  attire,  bouquet  in  bosom !  his  prim,  pinched 
features  painted  into  a  horrid  mimicry  of  life,  his  attire 
ball-room  like,  his  face  heavenwards !  and  his  way  through 
the  buzzing,  swarming  life  about  him,  towards — dust  and 
worms  in  "  the  house  appointed  for  all  men  living !"  Well ! 
I  have,  many  a  time  and  oft,  pitied  the  miseries  of  a  poor 
"  walking  funeral !"  winding  and  elbowing  its  way  through 
the  full  tide  of  London  life  to  some  city  churchyard !  It 
was  sad  enough  to  see  the  hackneyed  undertaker's  man 
carelessly  headiug  the  procession,  as  if  ashamed  of  the 
shabby  set  out,  while  behind,  two  or  three  bowed-down 
mourners — a  widow  and  her  little  ones,  or  it  might  be, 
two  orphans  hand-in-hand  with  handkerchief  to  eye,  made 
their  way  through  the  reckless  jostle  of  the  unsympa- 
thising  crowd.  I  have  seen  this — and  always  thought  it  a 
touching  sight — and  have,  moreover,  occasionally  stood  at 
the  door  of  one  of  the  "  silk  palaces"  of  St.  Paul's-church- 
yard,  while  the  omnibus  monsters  roared  and  tore  by  round 
the  carriage-way,  to  look  at  a  further  scene  scarcely  less 
aifectiug.  It  was  very  striking  to  contemplate  a  little 
group — the  curate  in  his  surplice,  with  half  a  dozen 
figures  in  black  round  him — all  absorbed  from  the  bustle 


>» 


"  CAMPO  SANTO  DI  POVEEI,  NAPLES. 


73 


without,  in  their  sad  work  of  consigning  "  earth  to  earth" 
in  the  area  within.  These  were  contrasts,  but  still  there 
was  no  indecency  in  them,  they  showed  the  incongruous 
realities  of  life  and  death,  which  were,  and  should  not  be, 
brought  into  such  hard  proximity,  still,  in  that  proximity 
lay  the  only  incongruity;  but  the  Neapolitian  funeral 
seemed  to  me  something  more  utterly,  intolerably  inde- 
cent !  It  was  not  merely  a  funeral,  making  way  in  its 
misery  through  a  very  unsympathetic  stream  of  human 
existence,  but  the  whole  "  set  out"  seemed  in  itself  so 
^^veri/  a  sham,**  The  corpse  was  a  "sham**  of  life — the 
full  dress,  instead  of  the  decent  grave-clothes  in  which  we 
do  homage  to  death,  a  "  sham**  of  gaiety  and  worldliness ; 
and  the  howling  fraternity  who  filled  the  street,  as  they 
performed  their  ''funzione**  of  devotion  and  mourning, 
the  greatest  ''sham**  of  all!  If  there  was  a  really  sor- 
rowful heart  in  that  funeral  train,  it  must  have  felt  the 
whole  "getting  up"  of  the  thing,  under  guidance,  and  for 
gain,  of  the  Church,  to  be  a  complete  "mockery  of  woe." 

"I  suppose  I  shall  see  that  procession  again  at  the 
Campo  Santo,"  thought  I,  as  we  struggled  side  by  side  at 
a  foot's  pace  through  the  thronged  Toledo.  Presently  we 
emerged  on  the  broad  level  suburb  leading  towards  Capua, 
whereupon  my  charioteer  began  to  "  go  it,"  and  I  to  medi- 
tate on  the  scene  I  had  just  passed  through,  and  that  to 
which  I  was  hastening. 

My  visit  was  a  pilgrimage  in  discharge  of  a  kind  of  vow, 
in  which  I  had  bound  myself  after  reading  "Willis'  'pen- 
cilling*  **  of  the  "  Campo  Santo  at  Naples,"  that  if  ever  I 
had  opportunity  I  would  compare  his  terrible  picture  with 
the  reality.     After  a  mile  or  two,  my  driver  halted  before 


74. 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GUAND  T0UB"-ISTS. 


a  large,  handsome,  arched  gateway  by  the  road-side,  above 
which  the  ground  rose  precipitately  into  a  hill,  on  which 
pyramids,  obelisks,  urns,  and  glittering  spires  bristled  up 
everywhere  from  among  cypress  and  other  trees;  the 
enclosure  was  obviously  a  cemetery — but  as  obviously  not 
that  I  wanted  to  see. 

"  Campo  Santo  di  PoverV — "This  is  not  the  place," 
said  I. 

"Ah,  signer,  pardon,'*  said  the  driver,  "how  could  I 
know  ?  All  the  Forestieri  come  to  this  hellissimo  luogo  I 
As  for  the  poor,  they  are  up  there'^ — pointing  to  a  by- 
road which  ascended  the  hill  to  the  right  hand,  nearer  the 
city. 

Now  I  did  not  want  to  see  "  the  rich  in  his  death" — the 
pomps  and  vanities  of  great  men's  graves  are  pretty  much 
the  same  everywhere — however,  as  I  was  at  the  place,  I 
took  a  walk  through  it;  it  seemed  extensive  and  well 
kept.   Some  of  the  Columbaria*  belonging  to  the  Eeligious 

*  Strictly  speaking,  "  Columbaria''''  is  not  a  name  applicable  to  the 
joint-stock  burial  enclosures  of  Christian  communities,  it  property  belongs 
to  those  doi>€co<-like  buildings  occasionally  discovered  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Rome  and  elsewhere,  in  which  the  Pagans  placed  in  cinerary  urns,  or 
cists,  the  ashes  of  their  burnt  dead.  The  Neapolitan  burial-places  seemed 
to  me  to  be  more  on  the  plan  of  "  burial  society"  associations  got  up  by 
each  religious  order ;  these  "  getting  business"  according  to  the  repute  for 
sanctity  they  might  enjoy,  or  the  propriety  with  which,  to  use  under- 
takers' phrase,  they  "  perform  funerals."  I  think  it  probable,  though  I 
do  not  know  the  fact,  that  the  Church  has  a  monopoly  of  the  "  under- 
taking business"  in  those  countries ;  that  the  moment  death  takes  place, 
the  relatives  surrender  all  to  the  Church,  which  does  the  dressing,  the 
howling,  the  lighting,  and  the  last  lodging,  at  a  ^'prix  Jixe."  As  to  the 
after  charges — for  mortuary  masses,  relief  from  purgatory,  &c. — I  believe 
there  are  no  fixed  rates  for  such  services,  depending  as  they  do  on  the 
variable  quantities  of  grief,  guilt,   superstition,    and   imposition.     The 


ii 


»i 


CAMPO  SANTO  Dl  POVEEI,      NAPLES 


75 


Brotherhoods  were  set  out  to  make  a  man  in  love  with 
death  by  the  "  snug  lying"  they  promised.  Many  of  the 
inscriptions  were  exaggerated  and  florid — a  few  simple  and 
touching.     One  was : 

"  Via  Universae  camis" 

Angelo  Verticar 

Nata  li  26  Aprile  1844, 

e  Passata  a  miglior  vita 

U  24  Februario  1847. 

One  more  simple  still : 

J.  S. 

Naia  !    Morte  ! 

The  following  polyglot  declarationof  a  "yoi^A^7o50p^^2wc" 
smacks  of  "  French  principles"  more  strongly  than  one 
would  expect  in  the  region  of  "  Catholic  Naples :" 

"  Pour  le  sage,  la  Mort  est  le  soir 
d'un  beau  jour." 

"  Somni  setemali  sacrum" 

a 

Maria  Marcelli,  Duchessa  di  Vostigerardi 

The  following  summary  of  a  young  wife  and  mother 
is  affecting,  reminding  us  of  the  noble  anecdote  of  Kachel 
Lady  Russell,  who,  having  one  daughter  (the  Duchess  of 
Devonshire)  lying  in  childbirth,  and  the  other  (her  of 
Eutland)  dead  and  about  to  be  buried,  in  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, answered  the  inquiry  of  the  living  sister  after 
the  health  of  the  dead  one,  by  the  merciful  equivoque :  "  I 

Italian  road-book  is  no  protection  to  the  traveller  except  on  the  beaten 
track,  and  there  is  no  more  a  settled  price  for  services  in  the  terra  incogs 
nita  of  purgatory,  than  there  is  a  posting  tariff  in  Calabria  ! 


76 


>» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


have  just  seen  her  out  of  bed" — (she  did  not  add,  in  her 
coffin!). 

Teresa  Chammanaro 

(nat^  Fiono) 

Consorti  ineprensibile, 

Matre  affettuosissima, 

Cessa  a  le  otto  Aprile  1843, 

Neir  anno  ventesimo  ottavo  di  sue  vita. 

Ignari  che  di  due  giorni 

L'avea  preceduta  nel  "  gran'  viaggio" 

Sua  figlia  Emilia,  di  anni  due, 

Tal-che  senza  piangeria  in  terra 

La  ritrovo  in  Cielo. 

Qui  fosse  d'etrambi  reliquii  mortali 

II  marito,  padre  infelicissimo. 

I  was  soon  tired  of  these  artificial  draperies  with  which 
sentiment  tries  to  disguise  and  hide  the  stern  realities  of 
the  King  of  Terrors.  "  Pere  La  Chaise"*  is  so  far  beyond 
all  imitations,  in  its  melange  of  the  sublime,  the  pathetic, 
and  the  ridiculous,  that  these  cannot  elsewhere  detain  one 
long,  and  I  soon  found  myself  in  my  rickety  conveyance 
again,  climbing  the  steep  by-road  which  led  to  the  "Campo 
Santo  di  Poveri."  Our  route  brought  us  behind  and  above 
the  hill  on  which  the  great,  the  gay,  the  rich,  and  the  re- 
nowned of  Naples  paid  the  tribute  of  "dust  to  dust." 
Above  me,  yet  on  the  brow  of  a  higher  eminence,  the 
driver  pointed  to  a  long,  sombre  facade,  as  the  front  of 
that  Last  Home  of  the  Poor,  for  which  I  was  bound ;  and 
as  I  looked  below  and  above,  and  saw  beneath  me  the 
funeral  cortege  with  which  I  had  made  my  way  through 
the  Toledo,  now  composed  into  stately,  decorous  order, 
and  winding  "its  long  array"  into  the  "grave-grounds  of 
the  rich," — while  above,  a  poor  man,  with  a  little  white 

*  See  Appendix. 


>» 


"  CAMPO  SANTO  DI  POTEEI,  NAPLES. 


77 


bundle  under  his  arm,  accompanied  by  a  sobbing  female  or 

two,  was  wending  his  way  to  the  "  burial  portal  of  the 

unpaying  multitude,"  the  contrast  pressed  itself  strongly 

on  the  thoughts,  and  brought  to  miad  these  exquisite  lines 

of  Felicia  Hemans' : 

"  Some  talk  of  Death,  as  something  which  'twere  sweet 
In  glory's  arras  exultingly  to  meet — 
A  closing  triumph— a  majestic  scene, 
Where  gazing  nations  watch  the  Hero's  mien, 
As  undismay'd,  amidst  the  tears  of  all, 
He  folds  his  mantle— regally  to  fall ! — 
Hush  !  fond  enthusiast — still  obscure  and  lone, 
Yet  not  less  terrible,  because  unknown, 
Is  the  last  hour  of  thousands :  they  retire 
From  life's  throng'd  path  unnoticed  to  expire. 
As  the  light  haf^  whose  fall  to  ruin  hears 
Some  trembling  insect's  little  world  of  cares, 
Descends  in  silence,  while  around  waves  on 
The  mighty  forest,  reckless  what  is  gone — 
Such  is  man's  doom ;  and  ere  an  hour  be  flown — 
Ay!  start,  thou  trifler,— such  may  be  thine  own." 

By  the  time  I  had  wound  my  way  up  to  the  front  of  the 
Campo  Santo  di  Poveri,  the  poor  funeral  train  had  disap- 
peared, the  long,  grey  vestibule  was  deserted,  and  on  a 
bench  beside  the  portal  lay  the  little  white  bundle.  It  was 
the  cofi&n  of  a  poor  man's  infant,  left  there  for  the  species 
of  interment  I  am  about  to  describe,  decorated  with  the 
poor  man's  "bit  of  sentiment,  in  the  shape  of  a  small  nose- 
gay, withering  upon  the  coffin  in  the  hot  sun.  "  Sweets 
to  the  sweet"  sounds  delicately,  and  yet  to  think  of  both 
these  frail  sw^eets  to  be  presently  flung  into  the  charnel- 
house  within  I J 

I  had  left  my  carriage  at  the  bottom  of  the  lane,  and 
now  found  myself  in  absolute  solitude  in  front  of  the  great 
building  (originally  an  hospital),  the  curtain  wall  of  which 


78 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  T0UB"-ISTS. 


rose  before  me ;  not  a  soul  near  that  I  could  perceive,  I 
tried  two  doors  at  each  end  of  the  long  arcaded  vestibule : 
both  were  locked,  as  was  also  a  centre  door  leading  to  the 
area  within ;  the  rich  dead  below  had  their  porters*  lodges 
and  rangers — the  poor  dead  it  seemed  could  take  care  of 
themselves.  I  walked  out  into  the  lane,  and  at  the  fur- 
thest end  of  it  I  perceived  a  small  wicket  leading  to  the 
smallest  of  huts,  and  here  I  found  was  the  residence  of  the 
Custode  of  the  great  building  adjacent.  He  was  ready  at 
call  to  show  me  its  wonders.  As  he  unlocked  the  great 
door,  he  cast  a  careless  glance  at  the  tiny  coffin  which  lay 
near.  "  There  will  be  more  and  larger  presently,"  he 
said. 

"We  entered  the  great  flagged  area,  honeycombed  be- 
neath our  feet  into  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  capacious 
cells,  or  cellars,  with  a  small  square  aperture  in  the  centre 
of  each  overhead,  closed  by  a  flag-door  with  a  ring.  One 
of  these  flags  was  forced  open  daily,  to  receive  the  dead 
poor  of  Naples  for  that  day,  and  closely  cemented  at  night, 
not  to  be  opened  until  the  returning  day  of  next  year. 
As  we  walked  across  the  great  court,  everything  was  per- 
fectly clean  and  silent,  not  a  blade  of  grass  grew  in  the  in- 
terstices of  the  flags,  not  even  a  bird  lighted  to  look  for  a 
worm ;  the  only  sign  of  life  within  the  enclosure  was  a 
slight,  but  terribly  significant  indication  of  its  uses,  namely, 
a  large  and  peculiar  species  of  scarabaeus,  or  beetle,  running 
about  in  all  directions,  its  living  and  birthplace  being 
obviously  the  chambers  of  the  dead  beneath  our  feet.  The 
only  other  thing  to  attract  notice  was  a  machine,  not  un- 
like the  large  clumsy  carriage-setter,  sometimes  seen  in 
old-fashioned  primitive  inn-yards;  this  was,  in  fact,  my 


"  CAMPO  SATiTTO  DI  POVERI,"  NAPLES. 


79 


friend  the  Custode's  sole  implement  of  trade,  being  a 
powerful  lever  to  lift  the  trap-door  of  the  cell  as  required : 
it  was  his  substitute  for  the  "sexton's  delving-tool!" 

The  Custode  was  all  civility — as  accommodating  in  his 
way  as  the  Keepers  of  the  Museo-Borbonico  below,  and 
like  them  for  a  "  consideration."  "  Did  I  wish  to  see  a 
Camera?  —  some  did  and  some  did  not." — "Yes." 
"  Which  should  it  be :  that  of  yesterday,  or  of  last  week  ? 
Few  went  beyond  a  week !  it  was,  perhaps,  neither  plea- 
sant nor  wholesome"  {ni  ameno,  ni  salubre).  Now,  I  was 
curious,  perhaps  morbidly  curious,  to  look  into  the  awful 
mysteries  of  the  grave,  but  I  did  not  feel  equal  to  go  even 
so  far  back  as  a  week ;  the  weather  was  close  and  sultry, 
and  I  begged  to  rest  satisfied  with  the  "  camera''  of  the  day. 
"  Had  it  been  yet  opened  ?  Any  burials  yet  ?" — "  Yes, 
yes;  two  deliveries  (due  consegnari)  already!"  The  man 
spoke  like  a  penny-post  letter-carrier.  "  "Was  there  ever 
a  day  without  a  consegnare  ?'' — "  Never — never !" 

He  then  proceeded  to  the  corner  of  the  court-yard,  and 
with  some  labour  moved  the  clumsy  machine  I  have  spoken 
of  to  the  middle  of  the  area,  and  attaching  a  hook  in  the 
end  of  the  short  arm  of  the  lever  to  a  ring  in  the  eye  of 
one  of  the  trap-doors,  with  a  single  twist  the  sofo  cement 
gave  way,  the  stone  was  lifted  and  wheeled  aside,  and  after 
desiring  me  to  wait  a  few  seconds  to  allow  any  effluvia  to 
escape,  the  man  then  desired  me  to  look  down ! 

My  nerves  are  moderately  strong,  and  on  principle  I  am 
rather  indifferent  as  to  how  or  where  "  dust  returns  to 
dust."  I  am  also  too  great  an  advocate  for  extra-mural 
burial  everywhere  not  to  feel  the  mercy  of  such  a  provision 
as  this  Campo  Santo  to  the  steaming,  sweltering  Naples 


80 


n 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  *'  GRAND  TOUR    -I8T8. 


which  lay  before  us.  Still,  with  all  these  considerations, 
I  found  something  intolerably  trying  in  the  spectacle  upon 
which  a  mid-day  sun  now  sent  its  hot  revealing  light.  I 
saw  below  me  a  large  square  pit,  about  eighteen  or  twenty 
feet  deep  ;  the  "  deliveries"  of  former  years  formed  a  kind 
of  flattened  cone  in  the  centre,  fully  decomposed  into  a 
brown,  unoffensive  mass,  studded  all  over,  in  a  striking 
manner,  with  skeletons  and  fragments  of  skeletons ;  while, 
in  the  foreground,  in  terrible  prominence  and  damp  white- 
ness, lay  the  day's  consignments,  in  the  postures  in  which 
they  chanced  to  light  when  flung  down  sheer  from  such  a 
height.  My  first  impression  was  a  remarkable  one  :  it  was 
one  of  feeling  in  favour  of  an  illusion,  overcoming  the 
conclusion  of  reason,  and  quite  in  unison  with  the  exquisite 
sentiment  which  "  nature's  sternest  painter  and  its  best," 
Crabbe,  puts  into  the  mouth  of  a  dying  girl,  deprecating 
the  rudenesses  and  coarsenesses  of  even  decent  English 
burial  : 

"  Say  not  it  is  beneath  my  care, 

I  cannot  those  cold  truths  allow ; 
These  thoughts  may  not  afflict  me  there, 
But  oh !  they  tease  and  vex  me  now." 

Now  though  I  knew  at  the  moment  that  each  and  all  in 
the  heap  before  me  had  been  long  past  sufiering  before 
consigned  to  it,  still  it  was  impossible  to  throw  ofi"  the 
delusion  that  ea<jh  had  been  killed  in  the  dreadful  fall — 
one  by  a  broken  neck,  another  by  fractured  limb  or 
spine,  as  the  body  lay  in  some  strange  doubled-up  posi- 
tion, as  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  life,  as  with  the 
decencies  of  death  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature. 
Fenimore  Cooper  says,  in  his  hard  way,  that  as  he  looked 


"OAMPO  SANTO  DI  POVERI,"  NAPLES. 


81 


on  a  similar  sight  here,  it  suggested  to  him  the  idea  of 
"  dropped  Jackstraws ;"  to  me,  I  confess  it  brought  more 
humbling  and  disagreeable  associations  connected  with 
remembered  deliveries  at  a  "  slaughter-house" — I  saw  no- 
thing at  all  corresponding  to  Willis's  highly- wrought  pic- 
ture of  the  fair  young  girl  lying  gracefully  with  her  hair 
over  her  breast.  The  most  marked  figure  in  the  group  I 
looked  on  was  an  old  man  of  extraordinary  corpulency, 
who  lay  with  long  iron-grey  hair  streaming  back  from  his 
upturned  face — the  very  model  of  the  disgusting  Silenus, 
who  ever  figures  in  the  foreground  of  Eubens'  sensual 
Bacchanalian  pictures — ^pictures,  by  the  way,  on  which  I 
never  could  look  without  being  revolted  by  the  prostitution 
of  genius  which  executed  them,  and  which  will  now  have 
less  pleasant  associations  than  ever,  as  always  recalling 
that  fearful  tableau  of  the  Campo  Santo  di  Poveri. 

"  Cosi  e  la  vita,  signorT  said  my  companion,  seeing  me 
look  away,  sick  and  overcome  after  a  minute  or  two.  He 
had  probably  made  the  same  observation  to  hundreds  be- 
fore, as  they  turned  from  his  terrible  exhibition ;  yet  there 
was  a  tone  of  feeling  in  the  words,  as  though  even  this 
liabitue  of  the  grave  still  felt  human  pity  in  helping  to 
make  so  little  of  human  nature  at  the  last. 

Neapolitan  Italian  is  not  the  best — my  Anglo-Italian, 
of  course,  infinitely  worse,  so  that  I  found  insuperable  dif- 
ficulty in  putting  to  him  one  or  two  statistical  inquiries  as 
to  the  daily  number  of  burials,  the  proportions  in  summer 
and  winter,  and  so  on.  On  all  these  points  he  was  either 
quite  ignorant,  or  could  not  understand,  and  he  ever 
referred  to  the  "  Begistro ;"  but  the  Eegistro  was  '^forij' 
and  I  seemed  as  far  as  ever  from  satisfaction,  though,  in 


82  GLEANINGS  APTEH  "  GEAND  T0TJR"-ISTS. 

fact,  this  "not  at  home"  ultimately  procured  me  fuller  in- 
formation than  I  could  otherwise  have  attained.  As  we 
passed  out  of  the  court  into  the  vestibule  again,  he  pointed 
to  one  of  the  doors  at  the  end,  and  said  the  Begistro  lived 
there,  and  kept  the  books  there.  It  then  occurred  to  me 
to  ask,  "  Could  I  see  them  ?"— "  Yes,  yes !"— Without  any 
demur,  and  unlocking  the  door,  he  admitted  me  to  a  small 
room,  which  seemed  to  be  a  monk's  cell  transplanted  from 
some  convent.  In  oile  comer  stood  the  monk's  bed,  a  few 
books  of  devotion  on  a  small  table  beside  it,  and  on  a 
larger  table  near  tlie  window  the  ponderous  volumes  con- 
taining tlie  record  of  burials  from  the  commencement,  and 
I  sat  down  to  analyse  them. 

The  average  burials  for  the  year  seemed  to  range  be- 
tween 7000  and  8000 !  some  exceeding  the  higher  number 
—none  falling  below  the  lesser.  The  burials  for  1840 
were  8670,  or  an  average  of  twenty-four  a  day ;  those  for 
1850  were  7581,  or  an  average  of  twenty  a  day.  Por  the 
three  months  of  the  current  year,  to  27th  of  March,  they 
had  been  already  1991,  being  nearly  in  the  same  propor- 
tion ;  and  in  the  ten  days  preceding  my  visit,  the  numbers 

were  as  below : 

March  18 18 

„  19 12 

„  20 25 

„  21 27 

„  22 22 

„  23  .     .     .     •     .  2.0 

„  24 27 

„  25 13 

,^  26 13 

(Two  deliveries)  „  27 15 


"  CAMPO  SANTO  DI  POVEEI,"  NAPLES. 


83 


This  lieing  stiU  on  the  same  average  of  about  twenty  a  day, 
the  proportion  would  seem  pretty  regular.  I  could  not 
light  on  any. of  the  periods  when  Naples  had  been  subject 
to  those  periodic  pestilential  epidemics,  of  which  both 
sovereign  and  people  live  in  continual  dread,*  yet  without 
an  exertion  to  provide  any  effectual  remedy,  but  I  could 
learn  from  the  man  that  peste  sometimes  made  his  duties 
^^  cattivif  and  of  cholera,  and  its  effect  in  filling  the 
"  Campo,"  he  spoke  shudderingly  ! 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  great  mercy  done  to  the 
reckless  and  reeking  population  of  Naples  in  bestowing 
on  them  this  "  last  house,"  even  with  all  that  is  rude  and 
revolting  in  the  mode  in  which  the  dead  poor  are  con- 
signed to  it.  Out  in  the  open  country  such  a  mode 
of  burial  is  bad  enough  ;  but  when  one  thinks  that  before 
the  "  Camere"  of  the  Campo  Santo  were  opened,  similar 
pits  yawned  under  the  flooring  of  every  church  in  Naples, 
and  that  burials  in  them  were  conducted  with  the  same 
reckless  disregard  to  decency,  it  must  be  felt  that  there 
has  been  a  great  progress  towards  improvement  in  the 
establishment  of  this  extra-mural  cemetery. 


*  While  we  were  at  Naples  (1851),  upon  the  report  of  some  deaths  at 
Genoa,  by  unknown  disease,  a  "  fourteen  day  quarantine"  was  suddenly 
proclaimed  against  ^'  all  the  world,  and  the  ports  thereof."  The  injurious 
hardship  of  this  to  mercantile  affairs  was  so  serious,  that  Mr.  Temple,  as 
the  representative  of  Britain,  was  obliged  to  go  next  day  and  make  the 
removal  of  the  embargo  an  affair  of  state  with  "  King  Bomba,"  the  inten- 
sity of  whose  dislike  to  the  English  nation  is  only  to  be  equalled  by  his 
fear  of  coming  to  extremities  with  them.  If  he  could  but  get  them  to 
stay  at  home,  and  keep  at  home  those  liberalisms  which  no  quarantine  laws 
can  exclude ;  if  he  could  but  induce  them  to  "  keep  never-minding"  those 
wholesome  severities,  which  moved  the  indignation  of  even  Mr.  Glad- 
stone !  I  believe,  one  of  the  first  desires  of  his  Kingly  soul  would  be 
gratified. 

g2 


S4i 


GLBAKINGS  ATTEE  "  GEAITD  T0FE"-ISTS. 


The  covering  was  years  ago  lifted  from  some^f  the 
horrors  of  London  graveyards,  and  the  abomination  of 
town  and  city  interments  is  now  in  progress  of  remedy 
throughout  these  kingdoms :  but,  as  Irving,  with  the  Campo 
Santo  fresh  in  memory,  says,  "  God  grant  I  may  not  die 
at  Naples  !" — so  I  say,  "  God  grant  that  English  burial 
economics  may  never  reach  the  point  of  constructing 
wholesale  coffinless  vaults,  or  of  grudging  to  the  poorest 
pauper,  earth  enough  to  rot  in.*' 

There  are  two  things  which  having  once  seen  accord- 
ing to  previous  resolution,  I  have  determined  never  to 
seek  such  sights  again.  One  is  the  Campo  Santo  I  have 
been  describing  ;  the  other,  its  mimic  counterfeit,  in  the 
celebrated  wax-work  of  the  plague  of  Plorence,  this  last 
being  a  more  unutterably  offensive  revelation  of  the 
secrets  of  the  charnel-house,  only  saved  from  being  dis- 
gusting by  a  minuteness  which  does  not  offend  as  if  the 
scale  were  "  as  large  as  life" — or,  I  should  rather  say, 
"death."  The  principal  impression  it  leaves  is  of  the 
strange  perversion  of  genius  and  ingenuity  which  could 
induce  a  man,  whose  mind  must  have  been  scarce  less 
morbid  than  his  horrible  subject,  to  waste  labour  and 
thought  in  its  conception  and  execution. 


"  LAST  IMPRESSIOKS  OF  NAPLES." 


85 


CHAPTEE  Y. 

"  LAST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  NAPLES." — "  FIEST  AND   LAST  OF 
*  THE  STATES  OF  THE  CHUECH.'  " 

Theee  is  a  seat  over  the  Pausillippo  tunnel  (why  still 
call  it  "grotto?"),  and  just  a  little  in  advance  of  Virgil's 
real  or  pretended  tomb,  which  might  well  have  been  the 
Author's  resting-place  while  he  conceived  the  following 
beautiful  lines  :* 

"  Yet  now  despair  itself  is  mild, 

Even  as  the  winds  and  waters  are. 
I  could  lie  down  as  a  tired  child! 

And  weep  away  this  life  of  care 
Which  I  have  borne,  and  yet  must  bear — 

'Till  death  like  sleep  might  steal  o'er  me, 
And  I  might  feel  in  the  warm  air 

My  cheek  grow  cold — and  hear  the  sea 
Breathe  o'er  my  dying  brain  its  last  monotony." 

Poor,  poor  Shelley!  a  "tired  child"  indeed,  who,  to  use 
the  imagery  of  his  gifted  and  too  like-minded  companion, 
had,  in  early  youth,  squandered  his  energies, "  both  interest 
and  principal,"  and  with  a  "grey  head"  and  "heart  not 

*  "  Written  during  a  period  of  dejection  at  Naples."    P.  B.  Shelley. 


i) 


86 


5> 


(C 


GLEA3rmGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOITE   -ISTS. 


LAST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  NAPLES. 


j> 


n 


greener,"  was  come  almost  in  his  non-age  to  speak  of  him- 
self as  one  who 

"  had  nor  hope !  nor  health ! 
Nor  peace  within — nor  calm  around — 
Nor  that  content  surpassing  wealth 
The  sage  in  contemplation  found — 
Nor  fame — nor  power — nor  love — nor  leisure." 

A  sad  roll  of  negatives ;  and  when  it  has  come  to  this! 
with  a  poor  blase  soul-sick  creature,  bankrupt  alike  in  the 
motives  and  materiel  of  existence,  then  possibly  the  musky 
sick-room  atmosphere  of  Naples  may  have  been  the  most 
suitable  in  which  to  lie  down  and  dream  away  life,  within 
the  lull  of  its  tideless  "sea's  monotony;"  but  to  any  one 
of  hardier  temperament,  habituated  to  breast  the  bracing 
western  breeze,  while  watching  that  long  green  roll  with 
which  our  island  seas  come  broken,  and  yet  mighty,  to  dash 
in  thunder  on  cliff  or  beach— to  such,  the  enervating 
effect  of  an  ever  simpering  landscape, 

"  Shining  on — shining  on — bv  no  shadow  made  tender, 
'Till  love  falls  asleep  in  its  sameness  of  splendour," 

ere  long  becomes  scarcely  endurable,  and  every  feature  of 
it  soon  turns  into  a  separate  irritant.  There  was  a  long 
flat  shelving  rock  directly  under  our  windows,  upon  which 
the  sea  broke  about  half  way  with  a  weak  dalhly  plash, 
of  which  I  became  at  last  quite  impatient.  The  waters 
never  receded  so  as  wholly  to  uncover,  nor  did  they  ever 
rise  so  as  to  break  over  the  ledge  in  foam, — the  sea  kept  its 
dimpled  level  with  a  most  equable  insipidity,  and  everything 
was  much  the  same.  A  fishing  skiff  used  to  lie  day  after 
day  in  one  spot,  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  us, — there  it 
was  at  rosy  mom,  and  there  it  floated  at  "  dewy  eve," 


until  I  savagely  wished  a  gale  of  wind  would  drive  and 
dash  it  to  pieces  on  Nisida  or  Procida.   The  solitary  fisher- 
man must,  I  presume,  have  occasionally  caught  something, 
for  I  now  and  then  saw  a  head  lifted  for  a  moment  over 
the  gunwale ;   but  at  all  other  times  it  lay  every  day  and 
all  day  long  drifting,  with  sail  flapping  or  oar  languidly 
dipping,  like  a  deserted  or  enchanted  barque,  the  very 
embodiment  of  idleness.     Even  the  fish  of  Naples  were 
no  better    than   ''  pesciollinif'   weaklings,   of  grotesque 
scaramouch  shapes,  wholly  unlike  the  lusty  sea  products 
which  pay  the  fisher's  toil  in  other  climes.   At  last  I  began 
to  tliiuk  that  the  very  waters  must  be  of  weaker  volume 
and  less  specific  gravity  than  those  of  our  northern  seas ! 
This  of  course  was  a  mere  illusion ;  yet,  as  I  never  happened 
to  see  the  Mediterranean  lashed  by  a  ^'  white  squaU  '*  or 
rising  as  a  "  sea  in  its  strength,"  nor  experienced  aught 
but  very  endurable  tossings  in  my  four- day  voyage  on  its 
waters,  the  Virgilian  tempest,  in  the  Pirst  Book  of  the 
^neid,  which  had  furnished  to  me,  as  doubtless  to  my- 
riads of  schoolboys  besides,  th6  first  heau  ideal  of  a  storm, 
still  remains  an  unfulfilled  myth ;  and  as  I  am  not  likely 
ever  again  to  see  those  blue  waters  of  the  South,  I  fear  the 
poet's  ^''jUictum  ad  sidera  tollit,^''  his   "  vastos  vohtmt  ad 
littoraJluctvSy'  his  '^furit  wstus  arenis,^^  and  other  terrors 
of  the  poetic  tempest,  must  for  ever  stand  to  me  when  I 
read  them  but  as  so  many  "  rhetorical  artifices."    The  Bay 
of  Naples  will  rise  on  memory  in  its  miU-pond  placidity, 
and  dilute  the  fine  imagery  of  the  poet  into  tameness,  nor 
will  anything  short  of  a  fleet  foundering  ever  persuade  me 
that  the  most  angry  gale  could  dignify  these  weakling 
waters  into  aught  beyond  "  a  puddle  in  a  storm !" 


iij 


m 


88 


ct 


♦  > 


GLEiJaNGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


"  LAST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  ITAPLES. 


)) 


89 


That  same  delicious  climate  whicli  soothes  the  sickly 
stranger's  dejection,  into  euthanasia,  emasculates  the  na- 
tional mind,  and  leaves  in  the  native-grown  Neapolitans 
a  race  of  men  who,  with  "  persons  forming  models  for  the 
sculptor,"  possess  souls  so  shameless*  as  to  be  above,  or 
below,  "  that  homage  vice  pays  to  virtue'* — namely,  the 
hypocrisy  of  pretending  to  virtue  of  any  kind, — and  who, 
having  consciences  so  trained  as  to  give  no  pain  to  their 
possessors,  live  rich  in  all  the  enjoyments  they  know  or 
value,  and  die  trusting  members  of  a  ;  -ch,  which,  as 
Forsyth  nervously  puts  it,  "  ensures  heav  o  every  ruffian 
who  has  faith  in  its  absolving  powers.  '  Thus  it  is  that 
Naples  has  reared  the  most  extraordinary  population  in 
Europe,  a  populace  "steadfast  to  mischief  and — the  church" 
— "  conservative"  of  the  system  which,  by  cheap  royal  dole, 
ensures  them  their  ^^ panem  et  cir censes y^  their  handfuls  of 
maccaroni,  and  their  listless  bask  in  the  sunny  filth  of  the 
mole ;  and  hence  it  is  that  his  Majesty  of  the  Two  Sicilies 
can  boast  of  what  the   world  besides   cannot  show — a 

Eoyalist  mob ! 

This  were  all  sound,  nay  deep,  policy,  and  the  Neapolitan 
Solomon  might  boast  of  having  solved  the  problem  which 
perplexes  the  wisdom  of  Europe,  namely, "  how  to  manage 
and  keep  quiet  its  many -headed  monster ;"  all  would  be 
right,  both  as  to  means  and  end, 

"  if  to  live  well  meant  nothing  but  to  eat ;" 

But  when  we  know,  as  (thanks  to  Mr.  Gladstone's  revela- 

*  See  Appendix. 


tions)  we  do  know,  that  while  feeding  this  hydra  of 
lazzaronism,  his  Majesty  of  Naples  starves  and  disgraces, 
proscribes  and  tramples  on  the  intellect  and  free  aspira- 
tions of  all  that  is  good,  generous,  free,  and  noble 
in  his  country,  we  must  feel  that  in  so  far  as  climate 
may  affect  character,  the  sun  which  shines  down  upon 
and  ripens  a  laziness,  rising  at  bidding  into  ferocity,  and 
sends  energy  and  manliness  to  pine  in  fetters  and  herd 
with  outcasts,  can  scarce  be  called  a  blessing  to  a  com- 
munity.* 

This  reference  to  the  "  energies  of  a  nation  in  fetters" 
leads  me  to  remark,  that,  until  I  saw  Naples,  I  had  been 
much  perplexed  by  a  fact  which  I  knew  to  have  happened, 
namely,  that  a  sovereign  with  his  capital  in  revolt,  and  that 
revolt  so  far  successful  as  to  be  able  to  wring  a  recognition 
of  a  "  constitution"  from  a  despot !  could  regain  his  abso- 
lute ascendancy,  and  that  too  by  dint  of  blows !  in  down- 

*  Burnet  has  handed  down  to  us  a  pleasant  Neapolitan  ^ww^winode  of 
the  days  of  the  Molinos  and  Quietist  persecution  at  Naples : 

"  Si  parliamo,  in  galere ; 
Si  scrivemmo,  impicciati ; 
Si  siamo  in  quiete,  all'  '  Sant'  Officio." 

I  never  can  copy  an  epigram  without  attempting  a  version ;  so  I  render 
this  as  applicable  to  the  present  day,  when  a  word  will  proscribe  a  man— 
a  letter  cost  him  his  life— and  absolute  silence  subject  him  to  inquisitorial 
surveillance : 

Praters  to  the  galley-deck, 

Gallows  for  the  scribbler's  neck, 

Quietists  to  Inquisition, 

Ours  is  sure  a  blest  condition. 

"  There  is  no  new  thing  under  a  Neapolitan  sun."  For  further  considera- 
tions, see  Appendix. 


Id 


90 


»» 


GLEABINaS  AFTEE  "  GEAKD  TOXJE    -ISTS. 


right  street  fighting,  a  species  of  warfare  in  whieli  insur- 
gents are  generally  supposed  to  be  all-powerful  against 
organised  forces.  As  soon,  however,  as  I  was  able,  from 
the  Citadel  of  St.  Elmo,  to  take  a  dioramic  view  of 
the  city  below,  and  by  means  of  certain  short  cuts  to  find 
my  way  from  the  overhanging  heights  of  Montefiascone 
to  the  shore,  the  problem  of  the  internal  resources  of  the 
King  of  Naples  for  acting  against  a  popular  emeute  became 
quite  intelligible,  and  I  should  now  pronounce  Naples  one 
of  the  best-circumstanced  cities  I  ever  saw  for  such  a  mode 
of  action. 

•The  town  Ol  Naples  stretches  like  a  half-moon  upon  a 
narrow  beach  round  the  sho7^e  of  the  Bay  from  Pausil- 
lippo  towards  Portici,  the  cliff  rises  steep  and  precipitous 
to  a  table-land  above,  and  while  the  shore  level  leaves 
room  for  a  few  streets  running  parallel  along  the  length 
of  the  city,  as  the  "  Strada  Marina,"  "  Santa  Chiara,"  and 
"  Toledo,"  the  by-streets  striking  off  from  the  latter,  climb 
the  cliff,  as  it  were,  up  the  most  extraordinary  acclivities, 
and  furnish  myriads  of  rivulets  of  life  and  activity, 
trickling  down  continually  to  swell  the  Toledo  torrent,  and 
contributing  to  the  full  tide  of  animal  existence  which 
everywhere  swells  over  through  the  city. 

Now  there  is  not  one  of  these  streets  which  a  marksman 
with  a  Minie  rifle  could  not  command  from  the  St.  Elmo 
heights.  He  might  lounge  against  the  parapet,  and  practise 
at  his  will  upon  an  old  woman  basking  in  her  doorway,  or 
a  young  one  ogling  from  her  casement,  or  a  child  playing 
in  the  gutters.  A  corps  of  St.  Elmo  Eiflemen  could  sweep 
every  gorge  by  which  any  of  the  suburban  population 
might  attempt  to  debouch  upon  the  main  street  with  a 


"  LAST  IMPEESSIOKS  01"  NAPLES." 


91 


shower  of  rifle-balls.  Who  can  measure  the  effect  of  such  a 
power  as  this  upon  a  suburban  population  thus  assailable, 
not  merelv  in  the  man  who  fought  at  a  barricade,  but  also 
in  the  weak  woman  or  child  that  cowered  at  home  ?  I  speak 
nothing  of  the  wholesale  battering  power  of  the  St.  Elmo 
cannon,  if  sufficiently  depressed  to  play  upon  the  whole 
*'  fabrico"  of  the  city  beneath,  because,  for  humanity's  sake, 
one  would  not  even  contemplate  the  internecine  warfare 
between  king  and  subjects,  which  recourse  to  such  an  arm 
would  indicate.  The  monarch  who  would  employ  such  a 
resource  in  thorough  earnest  against  his  capital  could 
scarce  sleep  sound  and  easy  therein  afterwards :  if  he  could 
— he  ought  not ! 

But  besides  this  overcrowing  force  of  St.  Elmo,  the 
Euler  of  Naples  has  an  internal  line  of  fortress,  rising 
transversely,  and,  intersecting  his  peculiarly  placed  city 
at  right  angles  from  top  to  bottom,  somewhat  (to  spealc 
geologically)  as  a  trap-dyke  !  stands  out  from  and  sepa- 
rates the  stratum  through  which  it  protrudes  itself.     I 
became  aware  of  the  fact  thus  accidentally :  I  had  worked 
my  way,  it  might  be  two  or  three  miles  down  the  Toledo, 
and  hacJcwards  up  the  heights  in  the  direction  of  Capo 
del  Monte  and  St.  Elmo,  to  a  point  of  view,  which,  I 
was  told,  was  *^  superW  and  ^^uniquey     My  way  to  it 
brought  me  to  the  traverses  of  a  fortress,  or  fortified  bar- 
rack, and  my  unchallenged  passage  through  them  bespoke 
the  "  piping  times  of  peace.' '     The  view  was  all  it  had  been 
described,  wide  and  matchless,  taking  in  everything  that  lay 
between  BaisD  at  one  side,  and  Sorrento  melting  into  mist 
at  the  other ;  but  one  thing  in  the  view  troubled  me,  and 
that  was— my  own  domicile  at  my  feet— and  yet  a  great 


92 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAXD  T0UB'*-ISTS. 


way  off — near,  but  with  a  "  weary  way  between."  I  could 
have  flung  a  pebble  from  the  top  of  the  scarped  Piazza 
Falcone  Kock  into  my  own  room  window  on  the  "  Chiata* 
mone,"  and  yet  I  groaned  to  think  of  the  hot,  dusty, 
jolting  drive  which  lay  between  me  and  "  mine  inn.'*  As 
I  hesitated  to  commence  this  return  journey,  I  became 
aware  of  a  head  now  and  again  emerging  from  the  inequa- 
lities of  the  wall-like  rock  beneath  me.  I  looked  closer, 
and  by  degrees  perceived  that  some  one  was  ascending  by 
easy  traverses  in  the  very  face  of  the  cliff ;  and  presently 
there  appeared  on  the  platform  where  I  stood,  a  woman 
with  a  bundle  of  clothes  in  her  hand,  who  had  obviously 
made  a  leisurely  and  easy  ascent  from  the  lower  level. 
Methought  where  one  came  up,  another  might  go  down — 
it  is  but  a  trial !  and  I  was  presently  in  rapid  descent  by 
a  well-guarded  pass,  sentinel' d  at  every  traverse,  through 
which  a  complete  communication  and  united  support 
could  be  maintained  between  the  King's  Palace,  the 
"  Castello  del  Ovo,"  and  other  forts  below,  and  the  fortified 
barrack  above ;  as  for  the  Koyal  Palace  itself  and  its  con- 
nected strongholds,  they  were  always  severally  bristling 
with  cannon,  pointed  and  primed,  with  the  cannoniers 
standing  in  grim  proximity,  and  ready  to  emit  from  their 
sulphurous  throats  carnage  and  death  among  the  motley 
crowd  of  the  Toledo  and  other  diverging  streets.  I  saw 
all  this,  looked  at  it  often,  and  never  looked  at  it  without 
reverting  in  thankful  recollection  to  what  I  may  call  the 
homestead  aspect  of  our  own  "  Eoyal  Windsor,"  where  not 
even  the  stately  Keep,  or  unrivalled  landscape,  is  so  sym- 
bolic of  "  Merrie  England,"  as  the  trusting,  fearless,  un- 
guarded confidence  in  which  our  Sovereign  "  dwells  among 


tc 


LAST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  NAPLES. 


»» 


93 


her  own  people."  There  is  a  grim,  moated,  murky  Eound 
Tower  hard  by  the  IS^eapolitan  Eoyal  residence,  which 
in  size  and  shape  used  to  recal  the  great  Keep  of 
Windsor;  but  in  all  other  circumstances,  the  contrast 
was  striking  and  characteristic.  The  English  tower  rises 
clear,  airy,  unguarded,  and  patent  to  every  foot  which  may 
wish  from  its  battlements  to  survey  the  matchless  land- 
scape it  commands.  The  Windsor  children  play  about  its 
passages,  and  their  fearless  laugh  echoes  cheerily  from  its 
walls.  Tlie  Naples  fortress  stands  girdled  by  its  sullen 
moat,  sentinel' d  at  every  avenue,  and  from  every  barred 
and  narrow  window  suggesting  tales  of  captivity  and 
cruelty,  which  we  now  know  to  belong,  not  to  the 
romance  of  the  past,  but  to  the  miserable  realities  of  the 
present  time.  It  is  many,  many  years  since  my  impres- 
sions of  the  fearless  confidence  of  Eoyal  life  at  Windsor 
took  shape  in  the  following  lines : 

Where  Royal  Windsor  holds  its  wide  domain, 

In  richest  sylvan  beauty  spreading  far, 

A  mighty  donjon-keep  commands  the  plain, 

Meet  to  enforce  a  Monarch's  sway  in  war. 

But  now  its  fenceless  portals  stand  ajar, 

From  base  to  turret-top  no  bolts  restrain, 

Nor  telleth  pass- word  challenge  dread  of  foe, 

Seemeth  each  mailed  warder  set  for  show. 

'Tis  as  it  should  be — ^jealous  care  apart — 

The  Ruler's  safeguard  in  the  Subject's  love, 

Likest  His  rule  whose  emblem  is  the  Dove, 

And  His  choice  resting-place  a  thankful  heart ! 

May  prince  and  people  long  preserve  the  art 

In  willing  love  to  serve — in  guardless  peace  to  reign ! 


I  hope  it  will  not  be  unacceptable  to  a  loyal  English 
reader  to  receive  it,  as  it  has  come  freshened  to  remem- 


94 


GLEANn^GS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOTJE    -ISTS. 


brance  upon   seeing  tlie   contrasted   "  Donjon-keep'*  of 
the  Eojalty  of  Naples. 

The  Strada  di  Toledo  is  always  held  up  as  the  most 
characteristic  and  extraordinary  street  in  Europe ;  and  yet 
I  would  be  more  inclined  to  turn  to  the  long  street 
bordering  upon  the  sleepy  waters  of  the  Bay,  and  opening 
upon  that  mole  which  would  be  a  q^uay  if  there  were  any 
business  to  transact* ;  but  there  being  none,  the  Neapoli- 
tans turn  it  to  account  as  a  great  al  fresco  residence, 
where,  at  all  hours,  the  observer,  who  cares  to  see  life  in 
undraped  indecency,  and  who  is  gifted  with  a  reckless 
or  case-hardened  nose !  may  look  on  every  function  of 
domestic  life  (cooking,  dressing,  sleeping,  and  nameless 
et  ceteras  inclusive)  carried  on  with  an  abandon  most  sur- 
prising to  the  eye,  but  even  more  shocking  to  another 
sense,  the  impression  on  which  my  reader  will  allow  me 
to   tell  in  rhyme,   and  in  telling,  to   take   my  leave   of 

Naples. 

The  magic  of  a  Naples  view, 

Its  blue  sky  arching  seas  of  blue 

No  pen  of  mine  can  tell ; 
As  much  must  all  description  fail 
To  give  what  floats  on  every  gale, 

The — compound  Naples  smell! 

It  must  be  mere  poetic  trope 

To  talk  80  much  of — "  Naples  soap !" 

Where'er  a  stranger  goes 
He's  doomed  to  find  it  had  been  wise 
To  bring  a  second  pair  of  eyes, 

And  leave  at  home — his  nose ! 

And  yet  even  eyes  themselves  will  tire 
Where  every  third  man's  Priest  or  Friar, 

Pre-eminent  in  dirt; 
Seems  it  a  part  of  Roman  vow 
Alike  all  change  to  disallow 

Of  principle  or — shirt. 


"  FIEST  IMPEESSIOKS  OP  THE  SOMAN  STATES."         95 


A  shirt !  nay,  fhat^s  a  "  trope"  indeed ! 
For  theirs  is  an  ascetic  creed, 

Dogmatic  against — linen ; 
Dogmas  hold  fast  the  monkish  mind, 
Hence  holy  Brotherhoods  all  find 

The  coarsest  shirt  some  sin  in. 

Though  sometimes  lurks  beneath  monk's  hood 
The  frailties  of  mere  flesh  and  blood, 

"  Lust,  gluttony,  or  meanness" — 
I  doubt  if  scrutiny  most  strict 
Could  ever  hooded  monk  convict 

Of  having  laps'd  to  cleanness ! 

Fair  to  the  sight — though  foul  to  smell — 
Fair,  filthy  Naples,  fare  thee  well ! 

I'm  very  glad  I've  seen  thee ; 
And  wish  (your  King  must  own  there's  room) 
Some  revolutionary  broom 

Would  come  and — fairly  clean  thee ! 
***** 

I  was  glad,  for  the  sake  of  classic  associations,  to  enter 
the  Papal  States  by  Terracina,  and  though  my  route 
took  Horace's  '■^  Iter  ad  Brundusium,^^  as  indeed  aU  other 
guide-books,  in  reverse,  and  thus  obliged  us  to  read  them 
hacJcwa/rds !  yet  the  enthusiasm  with  which  I  recognised 
the  great  Horatian  landmark  ^^  scopulis  late  candentihus 
Anxur,^^  vdth  Terracina  nestling  at  its  foot,  was  not  extin- 
guished by  driving  under  the  arched  portico  of  the  inn, 
among  a  horde  of  drenched  and  steaming  fellow-travellers, 
and  in  a  down-pour  of  such  rain  as  I  had  not  supposed  an 
Italian  skv  could  have  sent  us. 

A  friend  at  Eome  told  me  he  had  made  an  excursion  to 
Terracina,  with  no  other  view  but  to  spend  an  evening  in 
walking  up  and  down  that  common  room,  running  through 
the  centre  of  the  building,  which  "Washington  Irving  makes 
the  scene  of  some  of  his  best  "  Tales  of  a  Traveller."  This 
was  a  compliment  as  high  as  well  deserved  to  the  power 


96 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


with  which  Irving  has  made  a  "bad  inn's  worst  room'* 
classic  ground ;  but  my  friend  ingenuously  owned  that  he 
wished  he  had  rested  satisfied  with  the  description,  and 
left  it  to  imagination  to  realise  the  locale,  for  that  the 
disenchanting  efiect  of  his  visit  was  complete ;  and  in  this 
I  fully  coincide,  though  possibly  in  my  own  case  the  dis- 
illusion was  promoted  by  the  very  disagreeable  accompani- 
ments I  am  about  tiO  mention. 

The  English  in  Italy  migrate  in  flocks.  After  the 
Carnival,  they  run  from  the  sackcloth  stupidity  of  the 
Eoman  Quaresima  down  to  the  sunshine  of  Naples  ;  a  little 
before  Easter,  they  hurry  back  again  to  the  "funzionV'  of 
"  Holy  Week."  Thus  it  was  that  I,  travelling  in  the 
Lenten  time  of  1851,  courier-less,  and  "  vetturino"-2^w, 
found    myself  enveloped  by    the    equipages  of  a  noble 

fellow-countryman.  Lord  F ,  before  me ;  and  another 

wealthy  but  untitled  countryman,  travelling  "  en  grande 
tenue^^  with  his  nursery  on  wheels, ybz^ryows,  and  all  other 
appurtenances  of  a  "  Milord,"  behind  me.  Each  of  these 
equipages  had  a  ^^hrave  courier,"  of  course,  and  these 
gentlemen  had  established  a  code  of  telegraphs  among 
themselves,  by  which  the  first  comer,  on  his  arrival  in  any 
town,  placing  himself  in  the  best  quarters  as  a  matter  of 
course,  secured  the  next  best  quarters,  not  for  the  next 
arrival,  but  for  the  second  next;  so  that  during  all  the  days 
we  travelled  in  company,  I  had  not  the  slightest  chance  of 
a  separate  salle  for  myself  and  my  daughters,  and  at  Terra- 
cina  in  particular,  I  had  but  to  choose  between  congregating 
in  Irvine's  "  common  room"  with  some  scores  of  unshaved, 
unkempt,  smoking,  and  not  over-refined  Hanoverians, 
Prussians,  Bavarians,  and  others  of  the  Germanic  Con- 


"  riEST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  THE  EOMAN  STATES. 


j> 


97 


federation,  who  were  travelling  in  a  regular  "  5ww^,"  or  else 
to  take  refuge  in  a  bed-chamber,  which  I  did.  The  Ger- 
mans were  by  no  means  uncivil,  and  had  I  been  journey- 
ing "  en  gargon,^^  I  should  have  been  very  glad  to  see  life 
and  its  roughnesses  by  joining  their  mess,  but  for  young 
girls  who  were  as  yet  unbroken  to  even  the  foreign  usages 
of  the  table  d'hote,  the  companionship  was  intolerable.  So 
we  retreated  to  a  bedroom,  and  in  doing  so  had  a  passing 
glimpse  of  a  most  desirable  salon  and  shoals  of  servants 
crowding  officiously  round  "  milord,"  while  we  could  not 
find  one  to  give  us  either  present  attention,  or  even  the 
remote  hope  of  a  "  jpranzo,^  much  needed  after  a  start  from 
Gaeta  in  the  early  morning.  Going  about  the  house  in  the 
unfed,  and  therefore  ferocious,  spirit  engendered  by  these 
mishaps,  I  dare  say  I  was  morbidly  sensitive  to  the  squalor 
and  filth  of  everything  around  me.  Our  hotel  at  Naples 
(kept,  as  he  carefully  announced,  by  a  ci-devant  courier  of 
his  Grace  of  Devonshire,  Signor  Hungaro)  had  been  scru- 
pulously clean ;  I  was  therefore  rather  unprepared,  for  the 
great  stairs  by  which  we  ascended — never  swept,  I  dare 
swear,  since  the  visit  of  Irving  himself,  or  of  that  humbug- 
hating  Englishman  he  so  well  describes — the  unwashed 
brick  floor  of  the  grand  salon,  or  hall,  the  tawdry  frescoes 
on  the  walls,  all  presented  themselves  in  hateful  prominence 
to  attention.  The  feature  about  the  place  which  most 
tlioroughly  realised  Irving's  description  was  the  loiterers 
about  the  inn  door:  these  looked  the  thorough  bandit 
Scout  as  he  describes  him,  "wrapped  up  in  great  dirt- 
coloured  cloaks,  with  only  an  hawk's  eye  uncovered," 
peering  from  under  the  steeple  hat  in  which  the  people 
dress  the  "  Brigand"  to  the  life  all  through  the  Papal 

H 


98 


»» 


ct 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  *'  GEAND  TOITE    -ISTS. 


riEST  IMPJOESSIONS  OF  EOME. 


»» 


M 


dominions.  I  saw  all  tbis ;  and  it  was  in  the  spirit  of 
"Cffisar  without  his  dinner"  that  I  sat  down  to  while 
away  the  time,  until  some  Cameriere  thought  us  worth 
attending  to,  by  recording  my  first  impressions  of  "  the 
States  of  his  Holiness"  in  the  following  lines : 

"  THE  INN  AT  TERRACINA." 

In  inns  of  all  kinds — and  all  round 

The  world — I've  very  often  been  a 
Sojourner,  and  yet  seldom  found 

Less  comfort  than  at  Terracina. 

You  enter  where — cold,  cheerless,  tall, 

By  fifty  steps  not  over-clean — a 
Staircase  conducts  to  brick-paved  hall, 

The  "  cafFfe  grande"  of  Terracina. 

A  lord  takes  up  the  best  saloon, 

And  you,  amidst  a  perfect  scena 
Of  beards  unshaved,  and  dirty  shoon, 

Are  doom'd  to  stay  at  Terracina. 

It  would  be  better  if  the  Pope, 

Who  now*  makes  England  his  arena, 

Had  kept  his  Bull !  and  sent  some  soap 
To  cleanse  the  dirt  of  Terracina, 

But  Pontiflfs  are,  like  many  men, 
Sublime  in  plans,  who  never  deign  a 

Thought  to  the  useful :  hence  the  den 
Of  dirt  and  drones  at  Terracina ! 

As  the  "  Eternal  City"  will  have,  if  not  its  due,  at  least 
a  fair  proportion  of  the  chapters  of  these  "  gleanings,"  I 
shall  at  present  run  over  it  with  some  current  remarks 
upon  the  abundance  of  water,  and  the  stinted  and  clumsy 
application  of  it,  which  must  strike  the  eye  of  even  the 
passing  traveller.  That  the  old  Eomans  knew  and  recog- 
nised the  use  of  water  as  a  "  great  fact"  and  great  need 

•  Daring  the  "  aggressive  turmoil  of  1851.** 


of  their  Queen  City  and  its  adjacents,  is  amply  evident 
— those  lines  of  fractured  aqueducts,*  those  monstrous 
"  thermae,"  magnificent  even  in  their  ruins  and  fragments, 
which  now  furnish  "  oggetti  interessanti "  to  the  tourist,, 
were,  in  their  original  design,  great  "  sanitary  provisions,'* 
provided  to  purify  the  "5orJ<?«,"  and  lay  the  ^'•fumum 
strepitmnque  HomcB^'*  Ages  and  hordes  of  barbarism 
rolled  over  the  Queenly  City,  and,  of  course,  clogged  and 
interrupted  the  play  of  her  waterworks ;  and,  it  may  be, 
formed  many  a  marsh  by  cutting  some  "main  drain" 
across.    But  Eome  has  lived  through  all ;  and,  though  it 

*  Forsyth,  in  his  curt,  Carlyk-isli  manner,  says : 

"  Some  have  proposed  the  restoration  of  the  aqueducts,  '  but  Rome,' 
say  the  Romans,  '  has  more  water  than  it  wants.'  (Qu.  "  ««c«.")  '  Give 
it  then  to  the  Campagna.'  '  The  Campagna  has  no  inhabitants  to  drink 
it.'  '  And  why  has  it  no  inhabitants  ?—for  want  of  good  water  as  well  as 
good  air.* "  Again  he  asks,  "  WTig  do  these  aquedticts  cross  the  Campagna 
in  courses  so  unnecessarily  long  and  indirect? — Ihevr  chief  motive,  in  my 
opinion,  was  to  distribute  part  of  their  water  to  the  Campagna  itself  and  to 
dijffuse  it  there  into  smaller  veins.^^ 

I  am  quite  sure  Forsyth  on  this  point,  as  on  most  others,  is  accurate 
and  facute ;  but  I  must  say  that  he  gives  his  valuable  information  in 
a  style  most  forbiddingly  sententious.  I  have  elsewhere  said  that 
I  should  have  known  Forsyth  for  a  schoolmaster,  even  if  his  memoir 
had  not  told  us  the  fact.  His  whole  tone  of  communication  to  his 
readers  is  in  the  "  go  look  in  your  dictionary"  form,  which  becomes 
habitual  to  the  schoolroom  autocrat ;  in  fact,  you  must  know  a  great 
deal  to  know  what  he  means.  Sure  I  am  that,  to  any  one  who  has  not 
been  in  Italy,  his  book  must  be  a  provoking  collection  of  unintelligible 
hints ;  and  even  when  there,  I  have  no  doubt  general  readers  often  put 
him  by  as  a  conceited  pedant !  Yet,  with  all  these  exceptions  (some  of 
which  may  be  laid  to  the  account  of  his  having  been  for  twelve  long 
years  a  soured  and  ailing  " detenu"  chafing  in  home  sickness,  superadded 
to  consumptive  tendencies,  against  the  bars  of  his  prison),  "  Forsyth's 
Italy"  will  always  hold  its  ground  as  a  true,  terse,  classical  manual  in 
the  hand  of  the  Italian  tourist ;  and  some  of  his  epigrammatic  sentences 
convey  his  meaning  with  a  pointed  felicity  which  it  is  easier  to  envy  than 
imitate. 

h2 


II 


100  GLEAIONGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOTJE   -ISTS. 

be  but  the  tricklings  of  her  ancient  profusion,  stiU  receives 
an  ample— a  welling  supply  of  the  cleansing  fluid  through 
all  her  rioni  !  Now,  what  is  the  result  ?  The  attention 
of  the  reader  is  invited,  for  it  is  most  instructive ! 

We  occupied  a  "piano  prime'*  at  Kome ;  above  us 
(probably  the  more  honourable  grade,  as  farthest  removed 
from  the  ''terreno")  lived  a  Neapolitan  prince  (exiled,  and 
living  in  Eome  under  a  political  cloud) ;  and,  above  him 
again,  several  nameless  denizens  of  a  large  mansion  ;  each 
piano  being  what  the  Scotch  call  ^'  self-contained" -that  is, 
a  separate  dweUing-place,  containing  all  conveniences  for 
the  habitation  of  a  family  within  itself.     In  the  interior  of 
this  large  common  dwelling  was  a  small  court,  or  area, 
and  within  this  area  a  weU,  affording  an  unfailing  supply 
of  exceUent  water.     Now,  in  any  fifth-rate  English  town, 
how  would  this  "  good,  of  God  provided"  have  been  distri- 
buted ?    A  forcing  pump  at  the  bottom  would,  with  an 
half-hour's  labour  every  morning,  have  filled  a  cistern  at 
top,  from  which,  by  a  stop  cock,  each  piano  might  have 
drawn  its  supply  "  ad  liUtumr     How  was  it  dispensed  at 
Eome  ?    I  have  often  sat  at  the  window  of  our  landing  to 
study  the  network  of  entangling  cord,  by  which  all  the 
several  floors  drew  each  the  hard-won  supply  (half  wasted 
in  the  ascent),  bucket  by  bucket,  from  the  lowest  depths 
of  the  common  well.     Should  any  two  floors  be  in  need  ot 
water  at  the  same  moment,  and  their  buckets  jostle,  or 
their  cords  entangle  (as  was  almost  certain  to  be  the  case), 
then  ensued  a  Babel  of  objurgation,  to  which  it  might  be 
amusing  to  listen,  if  the  echo  of  the  well-like  funnel  did 
not  render  it  unintelligible.    It  need  scarce  be  said  that 
from  mom  to  dewy  eve  this  same  funnel  was  damp  and 


II 


FIEST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  EOME. 


i» 


101 


droppy,  and  that  any  one  who  might  have  occasion  to 
enter  it  from  below,  at  all  times  received  a  "  shower-bath" 
of  the  first  force,  perforce  and  gratis. 

This  peep  into  the  domestic  "  waste  of  waters"  at  Eome 
only  corresponded  to  the  profuse  plenty  in  which  I  saw 
this  cleansing  element  run  to  waste  without.  From  the 
"Fontana  di  Trevi"  to  that  of  the  "  Navona,"  from  the 
"Quattre  Tontane"  to  the  "Aqua  Paula,"  water  was  for 
ever  welling  through,  I  hesitate  not  to  affirm,  the  foulest 
capital  in  Europe,  where  more  and  nastier  "  immondezia'' 
offends  every  sense*  than  in  places  where  water  is  a 
"  thing  of  price." 

Our  days  at  Eome  were  numbered,  and  a  large  party 
about  to  wend  homewards  were  making  their  arrangements 

*  You  frequently  see  in  Rome  the  walls  marked  -with  the  word 
'' immondezzaio"  As  an  Englishman,  I  should  have  taken  this  as  a 
warning  against  "  nuisance."  I  was  told  it  meant  the  reverse,  and  that 
it  was  an  intimation  tantamount  to  what  you  sometimes  see  in  the 
purlieus  of  our  cities—"  Rubbish  may  be  shot  here."  The  wild  dogs 
are  an  important  "estate"  in  Rome.  I  call  them  "wild"  because,  being 
masterless,  they  seem  to  live  a  savage  life,  retreatmg  in  the  daytime  t& 
the  unexplored  vaults  and  ruins  of  Ancient  Rome,  and  at  night  scouring 
the  city  in  all  senses  of  the  word,  and  occasionally  doing  battle  for  their 
spoils  with  a  concert  of  yowl,  and  snarl,  and  bark,  which  is,  to  a  nervous 
and  sleepless  man,  "maddening."  I  remember,  after  a  night  which 
these  brutes  contributed  to  render  a  vigil  (they  seemed  to  hold  their 
"  consultus''  in  the  "  Piazza  di  Spagna,"  near  my  domicile),  at  breakfast 
next  morning  with  a  grave  friend,  I  provoked  him  to  a  hearty  laugh  by 
an  assertion  that  "  whatever  other  characteristics  of  '  The  Holy  City* 
Rome  might  possess,  there  was  one  which  it  certainly  had  not !  "  "  What 
is  that?"  "  Why,  of  the  Holy  City  in  Revelations  (ch.  xxii.  15)  it  is 
said, '  Without  are  dogs !'  Now  I  must  bear  my  sleepless  testimony  that 
*  within  Rome  are  dogs,  and  their  "  name  is  legion  !  " '  "  My  friend—"  al- 
beit unused  to  the  risible  mood"— roared,  as  he  acknowledged  the  truth 
of  the  disqualification. 


102 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


"  PIBST  IMPEESSI0N3  OF  EOME." 


103 


for  departure,  when  I  heard  one  young  person  say  to 
another,  "  I  have  taken  my  sip  of  the  Fountain  of  Trevi." 
*'And  so  have  I"— "and  I"— "and  I,'*  echoed  from  lip  to  lip. 
On  inquiry,  I  found  that  this  referred  to  a  childish  popular 
superstition,  that  whoever  at  leaving  Eome  took  a  draught 
of  this  representative  fountain  of  Rome,  was  sure,  sooner  or 
later,  somehow  or  other,  to  revisit  the  city ;  and  our  young 
people  having  been  all  very  happy,  and  finding  too  late 
that  they  had  neither  seen  nor  done  half  what  they 
intended  during  their  stay,  had  conformed  to  this  popular 
superstition,  in  the  hope  of  "  seeing  Eome  again." 

Now,  I  never  hoped — I  will  not  say  "  I  did  not  greatly 
care'* — to  "  see  Eome  again."  Eome  has  its  "giro''  of 
ohjects  "  for  the  passing  visitor" — "  for  the  resident" — "  for 
the  student""  of  its  history  and  wonders.  My  opportunities 
did  not  go  beyond  the  first  of  these,  and,  under  good 
direction,  I  believe  I  made  the  best  use  of  my  time  as  a 
Bojoumer ;  but  I  departed  well  aware  that  I  had  left  behind 
me  subjects  of  interest  which  might  have  engaged,  not  to 
say  a  long  stay,  but  even  a  long  life,  and  stores  of  classic 
and  mediaeval  research  and  knowledge  to  which  I  could  not 
pretend,  nor  ever  hope  to  attain. 

It  was,  therefore,  in  no  wish  to  prove  the  charm  of  the 
Trevi  draught  that  I  walked  out  to  this  ever- welling  water- 
work  a  few  nights  before  I  left  Eome,  for  a  farewell 
glimpse  of  its  artificial  rock- work ;  and  as  I  looked  upon 
its  waters,  sparkling  and  gushing  in  the  moonlight,  and 
thought  of  the  "  Cloaca  Maxima"  through  which  they  ran 
to  waste,  my  thoughts  took  the  following  course  and  ex- 
pression : 


I  would  not  leave  thee — great,  yet  fallen  Rome, 
Without  some  meet  commemorative  line 
Whereon  to  look,  in  my  far-distant  home, 
There  to  recal  the  feelings  which  are  mine 
While  yet  I  gaze  around  me,  where  combine 
Earth's  noblest  monuments  with  squalor  base ! 
A  claimed  commission,  sealed  with  stamp  Divine, 
And  daily  despite  done  to  God  and  grace. 
High  names — poor  deeds — confused,  at  every  step  we  trace. 

Yet  how  select  thy  emblem ! — here,  where  meets 
Such  marbl'd  meanness — gold  o'erlaid  with  dross — 
Thy  classic  fountains,  through  thy  sordid  streets, 
Pouring  their  cleansing  element  to  loss. 
Incongruous  chaos !     The  triumphant  Cross* 
Planted  where  Pagan  Dagon  erewhile  stood, 
Is  mark  for  an  idolatry  as  gross — 
"  Will- worship"  desecrating  holy  rood, 
Soul-poiaon  mingling  with  earth's  choicest  food. 

Let  Teevi's  Fountain  shadow  forth  my  thought : 
Through  mimic  rockwork  wells  in  ceaseless  tide 
That  which  hath  cleansing  power — but  cleanses  nought. 
Borne  lies  in  filthiness — yet  points  with  pride 
To  the  full  stream  she  leaves — all  unapplied : 
So  through  her  scenic  worship  still  are  found 
Soul-saving  truths  its  mockeries  cannot  hide, 
Yet  fall  they  on  insensate  hearts  around, 
As  water  on  her  streets,  in  powerless,  pleasant  sound. 

Having  made  this  note  of  some  of  the  sensible  experiences 
of  a  sojourn  in  Eome,  I  must  say  a  few  words  of  a  very  pecu- 

*  A  Pope  (Benedict  XIV.),  in  order  to  save  the  Coliseum  from  being 
carried  away  piecemeal,  consecrated  it  by  planting  a  Cross  in  the  centre 
of  the  arena.  The  device  was  ingenious  and  eflfectual ;  but  the  leprosy 
of  superstition  and  "  will-worship"  cleaves  to  the  Cross  post  in  the  fol- 
lowing inscription : 

"  Bacciando  la  santa  Croce,  si  acquisitano  200  giomi  d'indulgenza." 

''^ By  kissing  this  Cross,  one  may  acquire  an  indulgence  o/'200  days!" 


104 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


(( 


LAST  IMPEESSIONS  OF  EOME. 


i> 


105 


liar  psychological  illusion  to  which  I  became  subject  while 
in  that  city,  of  which  I  have  spoken  elsewhere  in  connexion 
with  another  subject,  but  which  I  think  so  remarkable  as 
to  be  worth  repeating  here ;  and,  perhaps,  some  reader  . 
may  recognise  a  similar  experience  to  his  own  in  the  same 
circumstances. 

I  entered  Eome  possessed  with  the  idea  that  I  should 
be  able  to  discriminate  the  unquestioned  historic  monu- 
ments and  associations  it  possesses  from  those  ifictions  and 
lying  wonders  which,  added  from  age  to  age  to  original 
truths,  have  grown  on  to  a  monstrous  excrescence  of 
delusion  and  imposture  ;  and  I  hoped  to  be  able  to  sur- 
render myself  to  so  much  of  that  "  religio  loci"  as  was  by 
universal  consent  placed  beyond  all  controversy.  In  a 
very  short  time,  however,  I  began  to  feel  as  it  were  a  haze 
growing  over  the  mind,  and  producing  a  kind  of  inability 
to  distinguish  between  truth  and  falsehood;  not  that  I  be- 
came more  inclined  to  adopt  fable,  but  less  competent  to 
discern  fable  from  fact,  when  both  were  offered  in  the 
same  dogmatic  authoritative  form.  The  examples  of  this 
meet  one  everywhere.  Eome  has  certainly  unquestionable 
monuments,  places,  events,  attesting  the  certainty  and 
reality  of  some  great  Christian  facts,  but  with  a  wretched 
pertinacious  dishonesty  insists  on  tacking  to  each  certainty 
some  self-evident  fable,  and  requires  you  to  believe  all  as  of 
equal  authority,  until  the  result  is  that,  if  your  very  faculty 
of  faith  is  not  impaired,  you  at  least  begin  to  understand 
the  process  by  which  ''superstition  begets  infidelity." 
Examples  of  this  meet  you  at  every  step :  you  are  called 
on  continually  to  consider  some  stupid  contradiction, 
bungling  legend,  or  marvel,  invented  to  put  undue  honour 


upon  some  well-known  Christian  name,  or  to  magnify 
some  historic  event  beyond  all  limits  of  truth  or  credi- 
bility, until  at  last  the  effect  becomes  exceedingly  painful. 
When  certainties  and  inventions  are  continually  pressed 
on  the  mind  as  of  equal  authority,  the  value  of  evidence 
becomes  altogether  impaired,  and  those  who  do  not  make 
shipwreck  of  faith  in  their  own  persons,  as  least  come  to 
understand  how  it  is  that  many  come  out  of  the  same 
ordeal  with  their  trust  in  history  and  testimony  refined 
into  a  polite  incredulity,  and,  in  consequence  of  the  over- 
strain which  Romanism  puts  on  the  powers  of  belief,  are 
found  ever  ready  with  a  question  like  that  of  "jesting 
Pilate,"  "  What  is  truth  ?" 

Away, — away, — across  the  "  Campagna  "  in  its  smiling 
desolation.  We  took  our  mid-day  rest  at  Baccano,  infamous 
for  malaria ;  and  as  I  walked  about  in  the  glowiug  sun, 
peering  everywhere  for  some  ostensible  cause  for  this  pes- 
tilential character,  and  could  see  but  a  dry  and  variegated 
carpet  of  flowers  all  round,  such  as  would  seduce  any  un- 
wary or  unwarned  traveller  to  lie  down  and  abandon 
himself  to  repose,  I  could  not  but  recal  the  many  tales 
on  record  of  murderous  women  who  could  smile  and  allure, 
and  beckon  in  the  cut-throat  at  the  same  time.  We 
passed  over  this  enchanted  ground  as  quickly  as  possible. 
We  skirted  Soracte,''^  we  mused  beneath  the  splendid 
ruins  of  Augustus'  bridge  at  Nami,  upon  the  poet's 
fruitless  wish  for  its  perpetuity : 

"  Namia,  siilphureo,  quam  gurigite,  candidus,  omnis 

Circuit 

Perpetuo  liceat  sic  tibi  ponte  frui." — Martial. 

*  See  Appendix. 


106 


GLEAKINGS  AFTER  "  GEATTD  T0UE"-ISTS. 


We  proceed,  rather  more  rapidly  thanveturino  pace  actually 
carried  us,  to  Temi,  and  there,  true  to  my  purpose,  "  not  to 
say  what  has  been  better  said  by  others,"  I  refer  those 
who  desire  to  look  on  a  living  picture  of  Velino's  "  roar  of 
waters,"  to  the  musings  of  that  gifted  wanderer — "  Childe 
Harold  was  he  hight " — ^who  pronounces  all  the  other  falls 
he  ever  looked  on  "rills"  as  compared  to  this  "match- 
less cataract !" — ^yot  shunning  the  attempt  to  give  any  idea 
of  what  he  has  so  described,  as  to  give  all  that  language 
can  pretend  to  convey  of  such  a  scene,  I  must  find  utter- 
ance for  my  sense  of  a  minor  misery  I  which  formed 
the  only  drawback  on  one  ftdl  enjoyment  of  the  wonders 
of  the  "  Caduta  di  Marmore."  And  though  I  call  it  a 
"  minor  "  misery,  the  word  is  not  to  be  understood  in  its 
musical  sense,  as  referring  to  the  key  in  which  the  as- 
sailants toned  their  assaults  upon  our  tortured  ears,  nor 
to  the  amount  of  discomfort  which  it  was  able  to  inflict, 
but  merely  to  the  paltriness  of  the  cause  of  so  much  an- 
noyance : 

THE  PLAINT  OF  THE  PERSECUTED  AT  "IL  CADUTA 

DI  MARMORE." 

(Left  in  the  Strangers'  Book  at  Temi,  May  8,  1851.) 

Scribblers  avaunt !     The  Lord  of  Song 

Drank  deep  of  inspiration  here. 

His  stanzas  sonorous  and  strong 

Flow  like  his  theme,  in  full  career. 

Admire  in  silence — else  rehearse 
Velino's  praise  in  Byron's  verse. 

But  is  there  nought  for  minor  pen 
Which  shuns  the  fall's  majestic  hearings  ? 
Yes,  truly— ofttimes  better  men 
Have  made  a  name  on  Byron's  leavings. 

And  so  I'll  write— (the  theme's  not  pleasing) — 

A  word  upon  Italian  teasing ! 


"last  IMPEESSIONS  of  the  ttOMAN  STATES."         107 

A  good  kind  soul,  some  pages  back,* 
Calls  these  attentions  "  quite  romantic ;" 
I  know — as  they  beset  my  track — 
The  ceaseless  begging  set  me  frantic ! 

Distinct  above  the  torrent's  roar, 

'Twas  ever — "  Date  mi,  Signor'* 

All  down  the  glen— still,  still  the  same. 

Begging  made  ten  times  worse  by  bribing ! 

You  gave  to  one! — ten  fresh  hands  came— 

Beg !  beg ! — it  beggars  all  describing. 

Patience  exhausted — "  ditto  purse !" 
And  still  the  clamour  growing  worse ! 

The  majesty  of  sight  and  sound 

Holds  your  soul  spell-bound,  hush'd,  and  still ; 

Your  elbow's  touched ! — and  turning  round, 

The  charm  is  broke — for  fierce  and  shrill 
JJatocc^i-begging  hordes  beset, 
And  you,  who  would  admire,  mu£^  fret ! 

r  wonder  much  if  Byron  stood 

Impassive  while  the  beggars  teased  him; 

He  was  a  man  whose  ireful  mood 

Grew  "silent  rage"f  when  aught  displeased  him. 
Perhaps  alternately  he  wrote, 
And  shook  a  beggar  by  the  throat.- 

He  has  recorded  his  desire 

To  know  how  one  who  "  did  a  murder!" 

"  Felt  afterwards" — he  could  desire 

No  better  case — ^nor  need  go  further, 

To  have  his  wish — there  rush'd  the  torrent, 
And  round  him  caitiffs  most  abhorrent. 

*  This  refers  to  a  previous  entry  in  the  Strangers*  Book  at  Temi,  in 
which  some  "  gushing  young  lady"  described  the  attentions  of  the  natives 
in  the  terms  of  the  text.  Either  the  writer  was  under  the  same  hallu- 
cination which  caused  Don  Quixote  to  see  a  lady  in  a  country  wench ! 
or  the  beggars  were,  during  her  visit,  either  taking  their  ^^ siesta!"  or 
possibly  dividing  the  spoils  of  some  former  predatory  excursion !  Leeches 
never  take  freely  after  they  have  been  "  fed  to  the  full !" 

t  "He  got  into  one  of  '  his  silent  rages'  .  .  . 

And  stood  in  sullen  silence." 

Moobb's  J?^ron. 


108  GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE^'-ISTS. 

"  Done  justifiably  in  fury," 

Provoked  beyond  all  "  compos''  mind, 

Mere  "  6e<7^ar-8laughter"  any  jury 

Must  in  the  case  their  verdict  find. 

Should  tourists  on  such  inquest  sit, 
They  would  unanunous  "  Acquit!" 

I  know— /or  owe,  /  don't  disparage — 

The  law*  which  regulates  "  the  Bill" 

Fixed  by  the  Pope  for  every  carriage  ; 

I  wish  the  law  went  further  still — 

"  For  beggars  so  much !"     Let  him  say  it, 
Tourists,  I'm  sure,  would  gladly  pay  it. 

"  Sign'd  on  behalf  of  one  and  all, 
With  whom  I  saw  the  Temi  Fall." 

We  shall  pass  Perugia  (Perugino,  Eaphael,  and  all)  with 
but  one  remark.  "  Murray  "  prepared  us  to  see  a  strong 
fortress,  holding  the  town  in  complete  check,  and  in- 
scribed with  the  haughty  motto  of  "  a  Servant  of  Ser- 
vants," who,  feeling  his  Papal  foot  firm  on  the  Perugian 
neck,  out  of  the  meekness  of  his  faculties  spoke  thus — 

AD  COERCENDAM  PERUSINORUM  AUDACIAM 
PAULUS  III.  -fiDIFICAVrr. 

"We  came,  I  say,  expecting  to  see  a  stately  keep  tower- 
ing into  air,  repressive  of  the  underlying  audacity  of  the 
Perugians,  and  we  found  in  its  stead  an  open  esplanade 
covered  with  crumbling  ruins,  where  I  spent  half  an  hour 
in  meditation  on  the  gyrations  of  "whirligig  time."  The 
Perugians  had  bided  their  hour — it  came  in  1848. 

*  By  a  Papal  rescript  you  can  have  carriages  to  the  Temi  Falls  but 
from  one  privileged  inn  at  Temi.  The  charges  are  not  extravagant. 
And  by  the  same  mle  which  adds  "waiters,  chambermaids,  boots"  in 
England,  and  ''pour  le  service''  in  France,  beggars,  as  the  most  attentive 
attendants,  might  be  thrown  into  the  Pope's  bill  in  Italy. 


"last  impeessions  of  the  eoman  states."      109 

And  if  the  Papal  taunt  was  frank, 
They  paid  it  with  as  bitter  prank. 


There  is  not  of  that  castle  gate, 
Its  drawbridge  or  portcullis  weight. 
Stone,  bar,  moat-bridge,  or  barrier  left. 
Nor  of  its  glacis  one  blade  of  grass, 
Save  what  is  grown  on  a  ridge  of  wall, 
Where  stood  the  hearthstone  of  the  Hall ! 
And  many  a  time  you  there  might  pass 
The  cracklmg  battlements  all  cleft. 
Nor  dream  that  e'er  that  fortress  was. 

For  time  at  last  sets  all  things  even, 

And  if  we  do  but  watch  the  hour. 

There  never  yet  was  human  power 

Which  could  evade,  if  unforgiven,  • 

The  patient  watch  and  vigil  long 

Of  Him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong. 

The  Perugians  wreaked  their  retribution  on  the  proud 
Papacy  as  thoroughly  as  Mazeppa  upon  his  "  proud  Count 

Palatine." 

At  the  "  Gulandro,"  by  "  Thrasymene's  fatal  lake," 
we  exchanged  the  steeple  hat  of  the  gloomy  scowling 
subjects  of  his  Holiness  for  the  Tuscan  bonnet  and  open 
physiognomy  of  another  state — and  we  were  at  once  im- 
pressed by  the  different  face  which  aU  things,  animate  and 
inanimate,  wore.  The  Tuscan  Government  is  not  a  model 
one  ;  but  as  compared  in  its  effects  on  energy,  expression, 
and  physiognomy,  its  superiority  to  that  of  its  neighbour 
state  has  ever  been  a  subject  of  remark  evident  and 
striking  the  moment  you  cross  the  border-line.  Surely  an 
observation  invariably  made  must  be  more  than  a  pre- 
judice. 

i 


110 


GLEAKIIfGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOirE"-ISTS. 


ci 


SXMBOLISM." — "  THE  LATANDA."  Ill 


CHAPTEE  YI. 


C( 


SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVAITDA." 


"  High  Symbolism  "  and  high  Infallibility  are  alike 
subject  to  this  common  danger — that  if  not  well  sustained 
and  consistently  carried  out,  they  inevitably  topple  over 
into — the  ridiculous  !  "  La  Sua  Santita  "  will  never  get 
over  the  blunder  of  having  condemned,  as  theological 
errors,  the  philosophic  truths  of  Gallileo ;  and  the  subter- 
iiige  by  which  ultramontane  professors  teach  the  "  New- 
tonian Philosophy,"  with  a  salvo  to  the  "never  wrong" 
and  "not-to-be-questioned"  decisions  of  the  "Chair  of 
Peter,"  is  as  miserable  a  rat-hole  as  ever  obstinacy  crept 
into,  to  escape  conviction  or  avoid  confession  of  a  mistake.* 

So,  likewise,  with  high  transcendental  Symbolism.  "  The 
Pope  and  Sacred  College  "  combine  theoretically  into  the 
Symbolic  Exponent  of  perfect  Ecclesiastical  Government, 
in  which  "  God's  Yicar  on  Earth  "  is  supposed  to  sit  in  an 
interior  calm  of  guidance  and  direction,  the  Princes  of  the 
Church  being,  symbolically,  the  hinges  (Cardinales,  quasi 
Cardines)  on  which  the  outer,  or  manifested  Church  is  to 
turn  and  move  in  harmonious  action.    The  Papacy,  of 

*  See  Appendix. 


I 


course,  endeavours  to  make  this  theory  ohjective,  in  all  pos- 
sible modes  of  its  external  action,  and  to  exhibit  it  as  the 
leading  idea  (understood  where  not  expressed)  in  all  those 
'''' fwnzionV^  which  constitute  its  dazzling  and  captivating 
ceremonial.  Yet  it  is  in  the  progress  of  these  very  func- 
tions that  incongruities  and  absurdities  do  so  frequently 
creep  in,  that  while  they  are  intended  to  express  very  high 
and  transcendental  spiritualities,  they  in  truth  do  but 
impress  upon  the  beholders  the  axiom  that  "from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous,"  is — ^not  even  a  step,  but — a 
slide — an  insensible  transition. 

Before  I  proceed  to  "  high  places  "  for  my  exemplars,  I 
must  explain  my  meaning  by  an  illustration  which  pre- 
sented itself  "long,  long  ago,"  years  before  I  dreamed  that 
I  should  ever  have  an  opportunity  of  studying  "  Symbol- 
ism" "«^  limina  apostolorumP  I  went  one  day  into  a 
fine  old  church  in  Brittany,  in  order  to  examine  some  of 
the  details  of  its  architecture.  My  visit  was  in  the  early 
morning ;  yet,  early  as  it  was,  I  found  the  church  occu- 
pied. A  funeral  service  was  going  on;  the  coffin  lay 
within  the  choir  and  before  the  high  altar,  which  was  hung 
with  black  drapery,  "  seme  de  gouttes  de  larmes^"*  symho- 
lical  of  the  Church's  weeping  for  the  departed  ;  the  priests, 
"in  long  array,"  moved  processionally  round  the  bier, 
giving  with  their  united  voices  efiect  to  the  solemn  "  office 
for  the  dead ;"  a  few  friends,  in  mourning  habits,  drooped 
and  wept  in  the  stalls  of  the  choir — otherwise,  the  great 
church  was  empty — and  I,  considering  that  in  such  a 
scene,  to  walk  about  tablet  and  pencil  in  hand,  copying  in- 
scriptions and  sketching  mouldings,  would  be  symholical 
of  a  disrespect  I  did  not  feel,  quietly  slid  into  a  seat,  and 


112 


GLEAIONGS  ATTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


cc 


SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVAKDA.'* 


113 


waited  the  termination  of  the  service.      It  ended;   the 
priests  filed  off  in  solemn  train  into  the  vestry  to  disrobe 
themselves ;  the  mourners  departed,  leaving  the  coffin  on 
its  trestles  before  the  altar  until  evening,  when  the  true 
"enterremenf'  was  to  take  place,  and  I  remained  alone 
with  the  dead,  not  a  living  soul,  to  my  apprehension, 
within  the  vast  temple  but  myself.     I  felt  all  the  "  reli^io 
loci  et  rei  "—the  Majesty  of  Death  doing  homage  to  Him 
who  "  must  reign  until  he  hath  put  all  things  under  his 
feet."     It  is  not  all  at  once  that  one  can  turn  from  such 
thoughts  and  associations,  to  trivial  occupatio  nor  a  mere 
tourist's    objects    of  interest,   and  I  was   in    profound 
thought,  when  I  heard  the  door  of  the  sacristy  open,  and 
after  an  "  a  Bieu''  to  his  brother  priests  departing  by  an 
outer  door  at  the  opposite  side,  "  Monsieur  le  Cure  "  came 
into  the  church.     He  had  been  pointed  out  to  me  some 
days  before,  and  with  "Sentimental  Journey "-zm  in  my 
head,  I  had  entered  his  in  my  tablets  of  memory  as  "  one 
of  those  countenances  Guido  loved  to  paint— mild,  pale, 
penetrating."     He  had  just  retired  from  a  solemnising 
service ;   he  was  quite  unaware  of  my  presence— of  the 
presence  of  any  one— and  on  leaving  the  sacristy  he  took 
I  the  passage   between  the   high   altar  and  the    "  Ladye 
i  Chapel"  (that  chapel  which,  in  the  language  of  Symbol- 
(  ism,   is  understood  to  symlolise  a   "power  behind  the 
throne,"  ^mc^zcflZfy  greater  than  the  throne  itself  in  the 
estimation  of  many).     In  the  "Ladye  Chapel"  stood  a 
"  faire  statue  "  of  the  "Virgin  and  Child  "—that  incite- 
ment to  devotion  which  acts  so  powerfully  on  the  sym- 
pathies of  mothers  and  the  young  instincts  of  childhood- 
there  it  stood,  soliciting  that  devotion  which  the  Church 


of  Kome  so  sedulously  inculcates,  and  Monsieur  le  Cure, 
who  at  first  appeared  disposed  to  pass  without  offering  his 
homage,  as  if  on  sudden  recollection,  stopped,  returned, 
and  knelt  down  to  pay  it. 

As  he  knelt  there,  in  the  still,  solitary  church,  in  his 
black,  close-fitting,  graceful  dress,  his  hands  clasped,  his 
head  gently  inclined  to  one  side,  as  in  rapt  contemplation 
of  the  object  before  if  not  to  which,  he  was  praying,  to 
me,  sitting  in  shade  in  the  distance,  the  whole  was  an  im- 
posing picture,  most  artistically  grouped,  and  in  every 
feature,  attitude,  accompaniment,  symbolising  profound  con- 
templative devotion  !    "  Well,  certainly,"  I  was  saying  to 
myself,  "  this  Church  of  Eome  does  know  how  to  express, 
however  it  may  feel,  abstracted  seraphic  piety;   surely 
yonder  kneeling  man  is  at  least  absorbed  in  his  devotional 
contemplations."     As  I  spoke,  or  rather  thought  this,  the 
clasped  hands  unclosed — one  of  them  stole  down  to  a  side- 
pocket  (the  head  remaining  still  in  its  position  of  intense 
adoration) — I  saw  the  loosened  hand  uplifted,  and  pre- 
sently!— death  to  symbolism,   seraphic  abstraction,   and 
seriousness  all  at  one  blow! — I  saw  the  head  incline  a 
little  more  from  the  devotional  angle,  and  the  hand  admi- 
nister a — pinch  of  snuff! — ^yes!  a  pinch  of  snuff,  given  and 
received  with  as  much  seeming  gusto  as  ever  confirmed 
snuff- taker  afforded  to  "Scotch  high   dried"  or  "Irish 
blackguard."   The  dream  was  at  an  end— and  I  fear,  when 
soon  after  Monsieur  le  Cure  passed  me  by,  with  composed 
countenance  and  "stepping  mincingly,"  he  saw  a  most 
heretical  smile  on  my  face.     Such  was  my  first  esoteric 
lesson  into  the  illusions  of  Symbolism!    I  had  subse- 
quently, and  elsewhere,  many  others ;  for  instance,  when 


114  GLEAinDTGS  AFTEE  "  GEA53>  TOTTE   -ISTS. 

I  have  seen  the  confessor,  sitting  in  open  court  in  the 
"chair  of  penance,"  interrupt  the  outponrings  of  some 
bnrthened  spirit,  kneeling,  grovelling  at  his  side,  to  have 
a  "  chat,  and  shake  hands"  with  a  passing  acquaintance! 
or  a  preacher  in  the  pulpit  break  off  in  an  impassioned 
apostrophe  to  "  Notre  Dame  de  Pitie  et  de  Secours,"  to— 
spit !    These  were  rather  rough  and  coarse  exemplifications 
of  how  Home  woi^s  out  its  Symbolism.    "  But,"  with  the 
prophet  of  old,  I  said,  "  surely  these  are  poor--these  are 
foolish."  ....  '^I  will  get  me  to  the  great  men."    I  did 
so  at  last,  and  it  remained  for  St.  Peter's  and  its  "  High 
Ceremonies,"  in  long  years  after,  to  complete  the  disen- 
chantment. 

St.  Peter's  is  so  specially  the  theatre  of  the  "  High 
Ceremonies"  of  the  Eoman  Church,  that,  except  for  them, 
it  is,  as  a  place  of  worship,  comparatively  useless.     Eor 
personal  devotions,  the  Pope  has  his  Sistine  Chapel.     The 
Chapter  of  St.  Peter* s  "  fulfil  the  order  of  their  course"  in 
the  "  Capella  del  Coro"  (the  "  Choir  Chapel,"  spacious 
enough  for  a  large  parish  church),  in  a  side-aisle  of  the 
great  temple  below.  Individual  worshippers  are  at  all  times 
"  dropping  in  ;"  and  files  of  young  "  Seminarists"  are  con- 
tinually faUing  down  in  long  array,  to  pay  their  private 
homage  at  the  iUuminated  shrine  of  the  Apostles  in  the 
centre ;  while  there  is  ever  a  stream  of  votaries,  who  with 
forehead  and  lip  rub  away  some  infinitesimal  portion  of  the 
disappearing  toe  of  the  "Pietro  Sedente"— «Z^W  the  "  Ju- 
piter Capitolinus"  *—at  the  right  hand  of  the  nave.    These 

«  It  is  sometimes  mockingly  asserted  that  the  St.  Peter  of  the  Vatican 
is  the  rery  Jupiter  of  the  Capitol,  converted  from  a  Pagan  deity  mto  a 
Christian  saint  by  merely  new  naming  him ;  much  as  an  English  sign- 
post, which  figured  as  the  "  Prince  Eugene"  or  the  "  Markis  o  Gra^y 
of  one  generation  becomes   "  the  Duke  of  York"  or  "  Duke  of  Wei- 


u 


SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVAlCDiu"  115 


are  all  but  driblets  of  devotioa  trickling  into  the  "  mare 
magnum**  of  that  vast  nave,  and  for  all  practical  uses  the 
high  altar  of  St.  Peter's,  except  on  "  high  days,"  is  as 
though  it  were  not.  It  stands,  ^^  simplex  mwiditiis,'" 
without  a  gaud  to  attract  the  gazing  multitude  —  the 
plainest  piece  of  furniture  of  "  altar  pattern"  in  all  Borne. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  well  questioned  whether  it  were  not 
better  that,  like  other  movables  of  the  "fittings  up"  of 
that  great  temple,  it  could  be  put  aside  when  the  exhi- 
bition for  which  it  is  used  is  over.  They  take  down  and 
fold  up  the  silk  hangings,  remove  the  galleries,  roll  the 
organ  (itself  as  large  as  a  chapel  of  ease)  out  of  sight,  and 
leave  the  magnificent  nave  "alone  in  its  glory."  They 
would  improve  it  amazingly  by  making  the  central  bulk  a 
"movable  fixture"  also,  for  it  is  voted,  without  a  dis- 
sentient voice,  that  the  high  altar,  and  Bemini's  fantastic 
Baldachino  over  it,  greatly  impair  (they  cannot  destroy) 
the  efiect  of  the  noble  edifice  in  which  they  stand. 

Into  St.  Peter's,  on  "high  days,"  Symbolism  forbids 
his  Holiness  to  enter  except  in  such  a  fashion  as  shall  ex- 
hibit him  to  the  admiring  worshippers  as  raised  above  aU 
possibility  of  being  compromised  in  the  discharge  of  any 
of  the  ordinary  functions  or  agencies  of  humanity.  Should 
the  Pope,  on  a  "  high  day,"  walk  into  St.  Peter's  like  an 

lington"  of  a  succeeding  one,  merely  by  changing  the  name  underneath. 
Others,  however,  maintain  that  the  identity  consists  in  haying  the  same 
metal  recast  and  ccmsecrated.  I  incline  to  this  last  opinion ;  the  peculiar 
position  of  the  right  hand,  with  the  thumb  and  two  fore-fingers  held  up, 
symboUsing  *'  the  Trinity"  as  invoked  in  the  act  of  blessing,  seems  to  in- 
dicate that  the  statue  must  have  been  originally  designed  for  a  Christian 
use,  unless,  indeed,  the  right  arm  be  a  "  restoration !"  for  it  is  well  known 
that  an  old  mutilated  statue  may  be,  and  has  been,  so  '  restored,"  as  to 
be  utterly  unlike  in  attitude  and  expression  what  it  was  originally. 

T  *> 


116 


GLEANINGS  ATTEE  "  GEAND  TOTTR   -ISTS 


ordinary  mortal,  and  happen  to  knock  bis  toe  /—that  toe 
to  be  presently  saluted  as  the  symlol  of  his  Infallibility— 
against  any  of  the  fractured*  flags  of  the  tesselated  pave- 
ment, this  would  be  a  solecism  against  his   sublimity 
"  most  tolerable  and  not  to  be  endured ;"  and  so  the  Pope, 
in  his  "  unapproachable  supremacy,"  can  never  "  carry 
himself"  with  pro"priety,  but  must  ever  be  "  carried" — ^he 
can  never  conform  to  the  "  royal  rule"  of  ordinary  men — 
he  must  never  "  do  unto  others"— he  must  ever  be  "  done 
unto."     Thus  it  comes  to  pass,  that  when,  from  the  side- 
passages  of  the  Vatican,  he  bursts  upon  the  gaze  of  wait- 
ing and  admiring  Christendom,  borne  aloft  in  stumbling 
and  unstable  state,  he  usually  spoils  the  symbol  by  sitting, 
with  shut  eyes,  in  a  deplorable  state  of  7fl^w</-sea-sickness ! 
and  as  he  topples  about  over  the  heads  of  the  bending 
multitude,  he  symbolises  nothing  so  nearly  as  (according  to 
Dickens's  wicked  hint)  those  erratic  "  Guys"  with  which 
the  English  symbolise  a  noted  Popish  anniversary.     Were 
we  to  suggest  any  other  antitype  for  the  Pope  in  his  state 


*  I  fear  I  must  have  an  eye  for  minute  defects.  One  day,  observing 
the  several  lengths  of  the  next  noblest  buildings  in  the  world,  as  they  are 
measured  off  by  brass  indicators  let  into  the  unequalled  length  of  St. 
Peter's  nave,  it  suddenly  struck  me  how  many  of  the  great  marble  flags 
which  form  its  floor,  were  broken— some  by  many  cracks,  others  by  fewer. 
At  length,  on  closer  examination,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  not  one 
single  flag  in  the  whole  surface  had  escaped  fracture.  I  had  never  seen 
.  the  fact  noticed  before,  nor  could  I  ever  learn  a  reason  for  it.  It  would 
\  seem  to  indicate  a  violence  and  desecration  to  which  St.  Peter's  was 
never  exposed,  that  I  am  aware  of.  The  "  stabling  of  horses"  (such  as 
some  of  our  cathedrals  were  subjected  to  in  the  excesses  of  Puritanism) 
would  account  for  it,  but  the  "measured  tramp"  of  armed  men,  or  the 
pressure  of  multitudes,  such  as  throng  the  building  on  high  days,  are 
scarce  adequate  causes.  The  fact  is  certain  — the  cause  inexplicable 
to  me. 


! 


u 


SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAYANDA."  117 


of  elevation,  it  would  be  a  disorderly  masquerader  caught 
in  the  early  morning  in  Covent  Garden,  and  conveyed  by 
the  police  in  official  solemnity  to  the  "  lock-up  house."  As 
for  that  intended  to  be  "made  objective"  by  the  whole 
exhibition,  it  is  a  hopeless  failure,  which  nothing  but  the 
blind  prostration  of  the  throng  through  which  it  moves 
can  carry  off  with  decency.  The  greatj^aJeZZflj  of  peacocks' 
feathers  which  nod  over  the  pontifical  head  are  the  in- 
gredients most  truly  symbolical  of  the  tawdry  vanity  of 
the  whole  spectacle. 

Even  when  "  let  down  easy"  from  his  "  uneasy  emi- 
nence," Symbolism  still  hovers  round  the  poor  Pope,  and 
holds  him  captive  in  its  trammels.  When  "  en  grande 
tenue^''  his  Holiness  must  neither  dress  nor  undress  him- 
self. Every  article  of  his  cumbrous  chameleon-hued  and 
ever-changing  paraphernalia  of  state  must  be  put  on  and 
off  in  public,  and  each  has  its  own  officer  of  state  to 
minister  it  in  due  course  and  order.  One  takes  a  vest- 
ment or  a  mitre,  as  the  case  may  be,  from  its  stand,  hands 
it  to  another,  who  passes  it  to  a  third,  who  puts  it  on  the 
Pope,  while  the  Pope,  I  verily  believe,  is  not  allowed 
by  Symbolism  to  "  blow  his  nose !"  before  the  ^^ profanum 
vulyus'*  I  know  this — that  when  I  once  saw  his  Holiness 
perform  this  function,  it  was  done,  as  it  were,  "  on  the 
sly,"  and  that  several  cardinals,  in  their  voluminous  robes, 
stood  so  grouped  as  to  hide  the  deed  from  the  view,  as 
well  of  the  throng  in  the  distant  nave  as  from  the  galaxy 
of  beauty  in  the  galleries  round  the  Baldachino.  JS'or 
does  this  "  duresse^ ^  stop  at  the  Pope's  nose  ! — when 
sitting  in  high  symbol,  it  may  truly  be  said  that  he 
"cannot  call  his  head  his  own;"  he  muut  neither  put 


118 


»> 


GLEANTNGS  ATTEE  "  GRAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


on  nor  put  off  any  of  those  various  mitres  (half  a  dozen  at 
least)  which  are  repeatedly  changed  in  the  course  of  each 
high  ceremony.  Whoever  played  "  Cardinal  Hatter"  in 
1851  was  far  from  being  a  "  deacon  of  the  craft,"  for 
be  fixed  his  mitres  so  awkwardly,  that  ever  and  again  the 
poor  Pope  was  obliged  to  steal  his  hand  up  "  unbe- 
knownst," as  it  were,  to  give  his  head-gear  a  hitch!  so  as 
to  make  it  ait  easy  and  comfortable ;  and  I  noticed  the 
peevish,  pitiable  look  with  which  the  Jujt  w^as  done.  Poor 
man !  once  more,  as  the  symhol  of  an  absolutism  helpless 
and  hand-bound,  as  one  might  say  "  ex  officw^'  it  was  im- 
possible not  to  pity  him  extremely ;  and  if  of  a  nervous 
temperament,  it  was  only  natural  to  sympathise  with  the 
horrid  discomfort  he  must  ever  endure  under  those  bodily 
handlings,  haulings,  and  transmutations  to  which  he  is 
periodically  subject. 

Some  similar  tendency  to  the  ridiculous  seemed  inci- 
dental to  every  high  ceremony  I  looked  on.  I  remember 
m  the  Wednesday  "  Miserere"  in  St.  Peter's  (not  inferior, 
I  think,  and  I  heard  both,  to  the  so-much-sought-4jfter 
Sistine  performance  above),  a  little,  pert,  wily  Italian  dog! — 
a  creature  that  could  neither  be  coaxed  nor  hunted  out-*- 
made  its  way  into  the  area  of  the  '''  Capella  del  Coro," 
where  the  "Miserere"  was  performing,  and  there  ite 
pranks,  attitudes,  mock  attention,  and  chorus  of  an  oc- 
casional whine  to  the  most  thrilling  parts  of  the  music, 
sadly  disturbed  the  solemnity  of  the  service.  All  the 
while  the  functionary— whether  priest  or  sagristano  I 
forget — whose  office  it  was  to  quench  at  intervals  tie 
m/mholic  tapers,  tried  to  move  about  as  if  abstractedly  UB- 
conscious  of  the  currish  interruption.     At  length  somehow 


"  SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVANDA."  119 

he  contrived  to  lure  the  animal  through  a  side-door ;  and  if 
ever  venom  could  be  concentrated  into  a  poisoned  kick,  it 
was  in  that  with  which  the  holy  man  dismissed  the  poor 
brute  in  the  passage,  and  having  fulfilled  this  passing  act  of 
mercy,  stalked  solemnly  back  to  finish  his  part  in  the  *'  fun- 
zione" — as  if  we  had  not  heard  Mm  I    But  we  had  though ! 

We  are  long  in  arriving  at  "  The  Lavanda,"  a  "  func- 
tion" performed,  as  Murray  says,  in  the  "  Salle  del 
Lavanda,"  behind  the  "  Galleria  del  Benedizione,"  but,  as 
J  say,  in  the  south  transept  of  St.  Peter's.  It  is  quite  teue 
that  the  subsequent  supper  ("grace  said  by  the  Pope" — 
"  Peter  in  the  Chair" — Bichens,  hem  I)  does  take  place  in 
the  salle  over  the  vestibule  of  St.  Peter's,  but  the  washing 
is  unquestionably  in  the  church  below. 

Tbis,  as  all  the  world  knows,  is  a  ceremony  in  which 
the  Pope,  iridescent  in  gold  and  gems,  heralded  and 
waited  on  by  his  gorgeous  cortege  of  cardinals  and  mon- 
signori,  gazed  at  by  a  glittering  gallery,  or  galaxy  (take 
which  word  you  will)  of  ambassadors,  representatives 
of  Catholic  Europe,  and  watched  by  a  mixed  multitude 
of  admiring  disciples  and  irreverent  heretics,  proceeds 
towards  a  high  seat,  where  thirteen  men,  "all  in  a  row," 
clad  grotesquely,  with  head-gear  symbolising  nothing  so 
nearly  as  "  an  English  porter- pot  without  a  handle" 
{Dickens  again),  and  holding  nosegays  of  cauliflower  cir- 
cumference on  their  knees,  sit  in  awkward  state,  censes 
for  Apostles,  aad  waiting,  until  the  Pope,  ''en  passant^' 
does  his  function  of  sorting  a  few  drops  of  water  from  a 
gold  ewer  on  the  foot  of  each,  and  gives  a  benedictory 
touch  to  the  several  bunches  of  flowers  (which  the  Apos- 
tles afterwards  sell  at  a  "good  retail  profit"  to  the  devout 


120 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0IJE"-ISTS. 


Eomans  -without).  Now,  when  we  consider  that  all  this  is 
intended  to  symbolise  the  solemn  and  expressive  act  of  that 
"meek  and  lowly  One,"  who,  being  their  "Master  and 
Lord,"  did  "  wash  his  disciples'  feet,  and  wipe  them  with 
the  towel  wherewith  he  was  girded," — even  though  all 
things  in  St.  Peter's  were  done  "  decently  and  in  order," 
in  the  most  entire  keeping  and  decorum,  still,  to  any 
one  conversant  with  the  narrative  and  spirit  of  the 
great  antitype,  there  would  always  be  enough  to  give  a 
stronger  impression  of  contrast  than  of  congruity ;  but 
when,  in  addition  to  this,  every  variety  of  untoward  un- 
seemliness is  superadded,  the  effect  becomes  indescribably 
absurd. 

The  same  "  eye  to  character"  which  that  sly  rogue 
Dickens  noted  in  1844,  regulated  the  ceremonial  of  1851 
— there  sat  the  "  good-looking  young  man"  to  p*ersonify 
"  the  loved  Apostle  John."  I  must  own  I  did  not  see  the 
"  two  pair  of  spectacles"  which  Dickens  very  naturally 
thought  "  a  droll  appendage  to  the  dressing  of  the  Apos- 
tolic character,"  as  Tie  witnessed  the  performance, — but 
Peter  was  tTiere!  looking  in  perfection  the  sound,  hale, 
hearty  old  man,  who  at  supper  could  "go  in  and  win" 
against  all  competitors.  And  when  Judas  came  on  the 
stage — no,  I  mean  the  steps — of  the  platform,  enacting 
the  "enormous  hypocrite  to  the  life,"  there  could  be  "no 
mistake  in  himP^ — the  Symlolism  was  so  complete,  that 
he  was  greeted  with  an  audible  murmur  of  applauding 
laughter  from  the  vast  multitude  whose  upturned  faces 
paved  the  nave  and  transept,  and  who  might  all  have  raised 
the  chorus  of  one  of  Beranger's  celebrated  songs,  "  J^ai 
vu  Judas  r^ 


"  SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVANDA."  121 

Here,  as  I  have  said,  for  a  moment  the  symbol  was  in 
its  way  perfect ;  but  in  another  moment  the  performer  con- 
trived to  destroy  the  whole  effect  of  the  part  he  was 
playing,  for  he  had  no  sooner  made  his  way  to  his  ap- 
pointed place,  than  by  more  than  one  token  he  gave 
the  spectators  to  know  that  he  "  was  no  lord,  but 
Christopher  Sly  the  tinker  I"  He  had  scarce  seated  him- 
self, when  he  looked  round  on  the  admiring  throng,  and 
indulged  in  an  unrestrained  and  portentous  yawn  !  This 
was  sufficiently  un- Apostolic ;  but  worse  remains  behind, 
for,  removing  his  "porter-pot  head-dress,"  he  sent  his 
fingers  on  a  leisurely  and  searching  voyage  of  discovery 
through  his  tangled  and  red  grizzled  locks — ^the  filthy 
old  rogue  ! — what  illusion — what  Symbolism — could  stand 
imder  such  an  outrageous  incongruity  as  this  ? 

But  no  Eoman  ceremonial  could  ever  be  performed 
to  an  end  if  it  was  to  be  broken  up  by  such  a  trifle ;  let 
what  will  happen,  the  performers  act  on  Ealstaff*s  direc- 
tion— "  Out,  ye  villains— play  out  the  play" — and  so  go 
through  with  their  parts.  Presently  his  Holiness  and 
attendant  cardinals  appeared  in  long  procession  from 
the  "  Capello  del  S.  Sacramento,"  which  must  have  some 
private*  communication  with  the  interior  of  the  Vatican, 

*  The  varieties  of  communication  within  and  from  the  vast  pile  of  the 
Vatican  are  endless.  With  its  gardens  the  palace  is  said  to  cover  as  much 
ground  as  the  city  of  Turin— and  I  thmk  it  may  be  so ;  and  this  great 
bulk  is  all  honeycombed  with  an  intricacy  of  internal  communication 
beyond  conception.     Of  this  I  had  one  day  a  proof. 

There  is  a  great  hall  leading  to  the  Museum,  and  Raphael  Stanze, 
called,  I  think,  the  "  Sala,  Dwale,'"  or  "  Del  Ambasciadori,"  through 
which  all  the  world  passes  continually,  without,  I  dare  say,  being  aware 
of  any  entrance  except  those  at  either  end  by  which  they  enter  and  leave 
it.     I  had  done  so  scores  of  times,  when  one  day  I  was  amazed  by  one  of 


122 


GLEAKIKGS  AFIEE  "  GEAJO)  T0UE"-ISTS. 


ti 


and  "The  Lavanda"  proceeded.  I  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  curious  crowd,  making  the  best  use  I  couhl  of  my 
six-foot  stature,  and  with  all  my  faculties  on  the  stretch  to 
take  in  the  details,  when,  under  my  elbow,  in  gruff  deter- 
mined English  tones,  and  by  no  means  *^  en  sotto  t?oce,"  the 
silence  was  broken  by  the  following  rather  queer  accom- 
paniment to  the  Pontifical  act  then  in  progress : 

**  If  any  Italian  gentleman  will  answer  for  you,  I'll  let 
you  go,  but  not  otherwise." 

It  was  not  easy  to  turn  either  head  or  body  in  the 
throng,  and  thinking  it  was  merely  a  detected  pickpocket, 
I  did  not  at  first  look  round  or  downwards ;  but  presently 
the  same  gruff  voice  exclaimed :  "  Well !  what  do  you  say, 
1/ou  rascal  fV* 

At  this  I  did  turn  my  head,  and  under  my  arm  I  became 
aware  of  an  Englishman,  a  "  stout  gentleman"  in  body  and 
spirit  alike,  who  had  attired  his  bnrly  person  in  one  of  the 
yeomanry  corps  uniforms  of  "  merrie  England"  as  his 
court  suit !  and  who  held  by  the  collar  a  small,  sallow- 
faced  Italian  caitiff,  who  crouched  in  his  grasp,  but  in 
whose  snake-like  eye  a  deep,  concentrated  sparkle  told 
plainly  that  if  he  had  room  and  a  stiletto,  he  would  not 

the  seemingly  solid  pilasters  which  line  its  length  opening,  and  a  young 
girl  appeared,  evidently  in  home  dress,  dismissing  an  acquaintance  in 
visiting  attire.  While  gazing  at  this  apparition  I  had  a  momeBtary 
glimpse  of  a  long  hall  or  passage  beyond,  with  doors  opening  from  it  at 
one  side :  the  whole  had  a  dom^tic  inhabited  look,  and  the  young  girl 
was  evidently  at  home.  In  a  minute  or  so  the  pillar  closed,  and  seemed 
as  impervious  as  before ;  but  from  that  time  I  always  felt  as  if  the  Va- 
tican was  a  vast  ant-hill,  populated  in  all  directions.  I  was  ever  looking 
for  mysterions  doors  and  Antranc^  ajid  saw  numbers  oi  thwi  j — but* 
how  many  more  did!  not  aa&7 


SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVAia)A." 


123 


hesitate  to  release  himself,  by  making  his  detainer  '^  brook 
the  stab." 

It  was  no  affair  of  mine,  so  I  turned  my  head  again  to 
the  ceremony,  and  again  I  heard  the  gruff  English  voice 
ask  a  question  more  redolent  of  "  Hounslow-heath  of  the 
olden  time"  than  of  the  presence  in  which  we  stood. 

"Well,  what  money  have  you  got  ?" 

I  did  not  hear  any  reply,  but  presently  there  came  a 
jingling  sound,  and  for  the  last  time  the  gruff  voice  asked: 

"Is  that  all?"  Then,  after  a  pause,  "Now  then  get 
along,  and  let  me  never  see  your  face  more,  you  infernal 
rascal"  (rascal  again). 

By  this  time  the  Pope  had  "done  an  Apostle,"  sprinkled 
his  instep,  touched  it  daintily  with  a  towel,  blessed  his 
nosegay  and  returned  it  to  him ;  and  as  he  proceeded  to 
another,  I  could  not  refrain  from  turning  to  my  neighbour 
(the  Italian  had  by  this  time  dived  through  the  crowd), 
and  saying : 

"  "Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  what  was  all  I3iat — what  had 
your  sallow-faced  Mend  done  to  yon?" 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  that's  a  fellow  who  hangs  abont  our 
hotel,  and  on  the  strength  of  jabbering  infamous  English, 
has,  ever  since  we  came  to  Eome,  been  dogging  and  teasing 
us  to  take  him  for  a  Cicerone,  Last  evening  he  made  up 
to  me  and  my  friend  in  the  Sala  Eegia,  and  for  three  seoxii 
engaged  to  procure  us  seats  in  the  Sistroe  Chapel  "for  the 
'  Miserere.'  I  was  fool  enough  to  give  him  the  money. 
^e  bustled  off  under  pretence  of  finding  a  sagristano  of  his 
acquaintance,  and  we  never  saw  him  after,  until  I  cauglri; 
him  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  just  now.    I  made  him  dis- 


124 


ii 


»» 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GKAND  TOITE    -ISTS. 


gorge  two  of  our  scudi;  the  other  lie  had,  I  suppose, 
speut;  hut  if  I  had  had  room,  I  would  have  taken  out  the 
amount  in  kicks  T^ 

Such  was  the  curious  running  accompaniment  of  dia- 
logue with  which  I  witnessed  the  performance  of  "  The 
Lavanda"  in  St.  Peter's. 

When  the  foot- washing  is  ended,  or  nearly  so,  there  is 
ever  a  mad  rush  made  to  attain  the  impossibility  of  seeing 
the  "  serving  at  supper"  also.  This  is  not  to  be  done,  and 
is  therefore  o/*  cowrie  attempted  by  adventurous  thousands, 
who  stream  off  after  each  other,  with  the  insane  hope  of 
getting  into  an  already  filled  and  comparatively  small 
salonj  where  not  one  in  a  hundred  can  ever  hope  for 
entrance.  One  wholesome  effect  of  this  diversion  is,  that 
those  wise  enough  to  remain  behind  obtain  breathing  and 
elbow  room ;  and  in  my  own  case  I  got  thereby  a  nearer 
and  more  leisurely  view  of  Pio  Nono  than  I  could  have 
hoped  for,  seeing  that  I  had  declined  the  proffered  honour 
of  a  presentation. 

Though  numbers  had  left  it,  St.  Peter's  was  still,  to  all 
appearance,  as  full  as  ever,  when  the  Pope,  in  full  proces- 
sion, returned  by  the  railed-off"  passage  reserved  for  him 
to  the  Capello  del  S.  Sacramento.  I  had  edged  gradually 
near  to  this  railing,  when  I  was  made  aware  of  his 
approach  by  perceiving  the  whole  throng  surging  and 
sinking  on  the  knee  as  he  moved  along,  occasionally  and 
gracefully  waving  his  hand  towards  them,  having  the  two 
first  fingers  and  thumb  erected  and  the  others  closed,  after 
the  model  of  St.  Peter's  statue,  and  the  established 
formula  of  pontifical  benediction.  He  approached  rather 
quickly,  and  my  position  became  an  awkward  one.    My 


"  SYMBOLISM." — "  THE  LAVANDA."  125 

sturdy  Protestantism  would  no  more  allow  me  to  kneel 
for  his  blessing  than  to  kiss  the  cross  on  the  toe  of  his 
^^ pantufola''  To  turn  tail,  and  try  to  push  my  way  back 
through  the  crowd,  would  have  created  a  confusion,  and 
possibly  have  procured  me  ill-treatment,  or  a  hustling,  and 
in  the  exigency  of  the  moment  I  did  what  I  thought  least 
awkward, — while  all  around  me  prostrated  themselves  to 
the  JPontiff,  I  made  the  most  respectful  obeisance  I  could 
to  the  Prince.  As  I  raised  my  head  again,  I  saw  Pio 
Nono's  eye  fixed  on  me  with  an  expression  of  anger  as  un- 
mistakable as  my  own  act  of  protest  against  the  undue 
reverence  given  him  by  the  prostration  of  his  subjects. 
Nor  can  I  wonder  that  he  should  have  felt  annoyed  at  the 
apparition  of  one  tall  individual  breaking  the  uniformity  of 
that  prostration,  and  standing  up  from  the  pavement  of 
human  beings  who  knelt  before  him.  I  have  heard  that 
in  private  he  is  indiff'erent  to  these  acts  of  homage,  but  to 
be  thus  bearded  by  recusancy  in  his  solemn  assembly,  and 
so  near,  was,  no  doubt,  affronting.  Yet  it  was  not  done 
intentionally.  I  had  no  business  to  be  there ;  but  leing 
there,  I  did  the  best  thing  that  occurred  to  me. 

There  is  a  deficiency  of  angular  firmness,  a  roundness 
of  outline  in  Pio  Nono's  face,  well  expressed  in  most 
pictures  of  him  I  have  seen,  and  bespeaking  that  want  of 
decision  and  energy  which  his  career  exhibited  when  ven- 
turing to  depart  from  that  routine  course  in  which  alone  as 
Pope,  as  an  "  old  recognised  respectability,"  he  could  have 
hoped  to  go  on  safely.  He  first  announced  what  his  subjects 
received  as  a  golden  age  of  reform,  then  hesitated,  halted, 
retreated,  fled !  to  come  back  in  a  spirit  of  retrogradation, 
sevenfold  worse  than    the  first !     If,    as  is  generally 


126 


OLEAJtflNQS  XETJSIR  "  GEAJSP  TOUJa'*-ISTS. 


believed,  Pio  Nono  began  bis  reign  witb  a  fantasy  that 
by  throwing  himself  into  the  ^^  mouvemenf^  of  the  age  he 
could  "  ride  the  whirlwind"  without  an  upset,  and  "  direct 
the  storm'*  to  the  tcses  oftTie  Papacy,  he  soon  found  himself 
deplorably  mistaken.  He  intended  to  be  so  conceding  as 
to  persuade  the  world  that  the  spirit  of  his  Church  was 
liberalised,  in  order  that  he  might  assert  on  behalf  of  that 
Church  claims  and  pretensions  belonging  to  the  ages  of  its 
yery  highest  assiunption  and  most  absolute  domination. 
His  people  did  not  so  understand  him.  When  his  Holiness 
wished  to  set  them  "playing  at  freedom,"  they  wanted 
"  free  institutions"  in  good  earnest ;  when  his  object  was 
to  enable  his  ten  thousand  trumpeters  through  the  world 
to  proclaim  "a  liberal,  almost  a  reforming ,  Pope'^  come  to 
reclaim  a  world's  submission,  his  own  immediate  subjects, 
in  the  abyss  of  misgovemment  in  which  they  were  sunk, 
thought  that  liberality  and  reform  should,  in  and  like 
charity,  "  begin  at  home !"  They  put  him  to  the  test,  and 
in  the  test  he  failed,  vacillated,  retrograded.  The  flight  to 
Q-aeta,  and  the  return  to  Eome  at  the  point  of  French 
bayonets,  dispelled  a  delusion  of  Pontifi  and  people  alike. 
The  former,  finding  that  the  Popedom  and  freedom,  so  far 
from  being  compatible,  are  antagonistic  terms,  resigned 
himself  to  the  old  Conclave  regime, — made  over  his  admi- 
nistrative power  to  the  master-mind  of  Antonelli, — and 
retired  into  his  devotions ;  the  latter,  roughly  awakened 
from  a  dream  of  self-government  and  an  expected  infusion 
of  lag  control  in  public  afiairs,  lie  down  cowering,  brooding, 
and  heart-galled  in  their  hopeless  degradation.  "  Sempre 
nel  alysso,  Signor,*^  was  the  expression  used  by  a  Koman 
bourgeois  to  me,  to  describe  their  political  and  social  state ; 


u 


SrMBOUSM." — "  THE  LAVANDA."  127 


and  I  feel  sure  that  the  man  uttered  the  sentiments  of  the 
great  mass  of  the  once  proud  and  fierce  "  Populus  Eo- 
manus,"  depressed  and  dissatisfied,  and  feeling  that,  like 
many  other  professed  philanthropists,  the  Holy  Father, 
who  breathes  forth  seraphic  strains  of  peace  and  blessing 
to  all  Christendom,  is  within  his  own  domestic  circle, 
dynastically  if  not  personally,  little  better  than  a  bully 
and  a  tyrant. 

The  obesity,  whieh  has  since  become  troublesome,  was 
in  1851  very  visible  in  the  person  of  the  Pope,  and  his 
eye,  in  its  general  expression  light,  mild,  and  uncertain,  in 
the  momentary  gleam  of  anger  which  lighted  on  me,  told 
that  on  occasion  Pio  None  could  be  "  every  inch  a  priest," 
and  so  iQustrated  the  sarcasm  attributed  to  his  own  brother, 
Count  Feretti,  who,  to  some  one  lauding  the  openness, 
moderation,  and  liberality  of  his  relative's  eariy  reign,  said, 
"  Wait  a  little !  You  may  cut  Feretti  into  small  pieces,  ^ 
and  you  will  find  every  other  piece  will  be  Tnmh  and  Jesuit  \ 
alternately."  And  I  do  believe  these  two  epithets  cor- 
rectly symbolise  the  two  leading  characters  of  Feretti's 
mind — ^namely,  first,  the  deep  personal  devotion,  in  which 
he  gives  you  the  idea  that  of  all  his  court  or  cortege  he 
himself  is  the  man  most  in  earnest  in  the  functions  in 
which  he  takes  part;  and  next,  the  intense  unity  of  pur- 
pose with  which  he  announces  his  supremacy,  and  acts  with 
a  view  to  its  full  restoration  over  the  world.  No  man  who 
had  not  at  least  convinced  himself  oi  his  own  power  would 
have  ventured  to  inaugurate  the  dogma  of  the  "  Immaculate 
Conception"  as  did  Pio  Nono  on  the  8th  of  December, 
1854.  Such  an  experiment  on  the  convictions  of  the  world 
argues  at  least  the  "  good  faith  of  fanaticism."  .... 


128 


GLEAKIKGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0TTE"-ISTS. 


"  The  Lavanda"  is  over — the  Pope  is  retired-to  "  serve 
tables,"  hot,  hustled,  excited,  exhausted,  Ireahfastless ! 
(though  the  Apostles  up-stairs  were  "at  supper") — a 
friend  and  I  dropped  into  one  of  the  wretched  caffes 
beyond  the  colonnade  of  St.  Peter's,  to  drink  a  cup  or 
two  of  that  detestable  "  caffe  nero^''  in  which  the  creamless 
Italians,  in  cold  blood,  soak  long  pieces  of  bread,  and  eat 
"  the  sop'?  with  a  seeming  relish.  "We  sat  surveying  the 
groups  as  they  returned  from  the  ceremony ;  and  while 
we  did  so,  for  the  consistent  conclusion  of  the  whole,  who 
should  pass  by  in  propria  persona  but — Judas !  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  old  rogue — once  seen,  known  for 
ever.  He  was  now  in  his  every-day  attire,  in  the  rusty 
habiliments  of  an  old-old-"  rear-rank"  priest — a  class  from 
whom  the  play  "  Apostles"  are  said  to  be  selected.  Judas, 
as  I  have  said  before,  passed  us  by,  going  towards  the 
Ponte  di  S.  Angelo,  and,  though  off  the  stage  of  his  late 
performance,  he  might  be  said  still  to  retain  somewhat  of 
the  character,  for  "  Jie  Tiad  the  lag .'"  In  his  hand  he  carried 
a  huge  black  wallet,  but  what  it  contained  I  will  not  take 
upon  me  to  decide ;  it  might  be  his  apostolic  dress,  or 
more  probably  his  share  of  the  remains  of  the  apostolic 
supper  of  which  he  had  just  been  partaking.  I  incline  to 
think  the  latter,  for  assuredly  the  character  which  he  looked 
and  si/mbolised  best,  as  he  passed  us  by,  was  that  of  an  old 
hired  waiter,  wbo,  having  doffed  the  livery  in  which  he 
had  figured  at  an  entertainment,  was  going  home  in  his 
ordinary  attire,  taking  with  him  his  share  of  the  broken 
victuals  I- 

Such  were  the  associations  in  which  I  witnessed  "  The 

Lavanda"  at  Eome. 


"  NOTABILIA.  OP  ST.  PETEE's." 


129 


CHAPTER  YII. 

"the  STUAETS!"   and   some  OTHEE  "NOTABILIA"    of  ST. 

petee's. 

When  you  enter  St.  Peter's  on  the  left  hand,  after  the 
first  rapid  glance  at  the  vastness  of  that  "  little  thing  made 
big,"  which  some  one  has  disparagingly  called  it,  your 
next  will  probably  be  at  the  "six-foot  baby"  which  sup- 
ports a  "  Benatura"  at  the  column  of  the  side-aisle  next 
the  door,  a  comparison  of  whose  proportions  with  your 
own  stature  gives  you  the  first  relative  idea  of  the  scale 
of  all  around  you.  Turning  from  this  you  encounter,  at 
the  first  nave  pillar,  the  graceful  monument  on  which  the 
delicate  generosity  of  their  disinheriting  kinsman  engaged 
the  genius  of  Canova  to  do  honour  to  the  extinct  and 
extinguished  dynasty  of  Stuart !  As  this  monument  came 
from  the  hand  of  the  sculptor  the  design  and  execution 
were  alike  suitable  and  beautiful,  and  so  it  stood  througli 
more  than  one  Popedom,  until,  in  one  of  the  fits  of 
prudery*  to  which  the  Papacy  seems  periodically  liable, 

*  See  Appendix. 
K 


130 


GLEA^fH^GS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


and  during  the  paroxysms  of  which  many  absurdities  are 
committed  upon  the  statuary  and  works  of  art  in  Eome, 
Pio  NoNO  ordered  the  delicate  marble  to  be  invested  with 
stiff,  uncouth  bronze  draperies,  painted  icTiite,  as  if  to 
delude  into  an  idea  that  they  formed  part  of  the  sculptor's 
original  design.  A  single  glance,  however,  shows  you  that 
there  is  now  something  out  of  keeping  in  the  sculpture, 
and  by  degrees  you  discover  that  Canova's  original  work 
has  been  added  to,  but  not  improved :  much  as  the  free 
and  graceful  action  of  the  American  Ked-man  would  be 
cramped  by  forcing  him  into  the  duresse  and  decency  of  a 
fashionable  frock-coat !  The  Pope  has  done  his  utmost  to 
destroy  the  effect  of  an  original  conception  as  chaste  as  it 
was  expressive  and  suitable. 

It  is  in  no  wish  to  disparage  the  grace  and  generosity 
with  which  George  the  Fourth  of  England  has  done  honour 
to  buried  antagonists  that  I  notice  a  certain  "  canny''  saga- 
city in  the  inscription  on  the  Stuart  monument. 

JACOBO  ni. 

JACOBl  n.  MAGN^  BRIT.  REGIS  FILIO, 

KAROLO  EDWARDO 

ET  HENRICO  DECANO  PATRUM 

CARDIXALIUM 

JACOBl  III.  FLLIIS 

REGLE  8TIRPIS  STUARDLE,*  POSTREJIIS, 

AKXO  MDCCCXIX. 

*  The  varieties  in  the  spelling  of  the  names  of  the  extinct  dynasty- 
are  curious.  Stewart!  Steward!  Stuart!  each  has  had  its  day. 
Looking  at  the  latest  edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  I  see  ihQ  first  everj-- 
where  adopted ;  the  Latinising  of  the  name  in  the  inscription  is  derived 
from  the  second,  as  the  second  would  agree  best  with  the  tradition  of  the 
origin  of  the  House,  whereas  the  third  is  undoubtedly  historical,  and 
of  old  date,  in  proof  of  which  I  recollect  an  anagram  on  the  name  of 
"  Mary  Stuart^  Queen  of  Scots,"  which  would  admit  no  other  spelling. 


"  ITOTABILIA  OF  ST.  PETEE's. 


jj 


131 


Whether  designed  or  not,  undoubtedly,  so  long  as  this 
record  stands^  it  testifies  to  the  extinction  of  claims  which 
had  more  than  once  caused  the  House  of  Hanover  anxiety 
and  trouble,  and  cost  the  English  people  many  a  bloody 
sacrifice,  offered  up  by  misplaced  loyalty  and  desperate 
fidelity  in  the  cause  of  a  Family  which,  beginning  by  being 
untrue  to  the  nation,  had  long  been  found  suicidally  un- 
true to  itself. 

Although  the  Stuart  cause  had  long  become  the  "  sha- 
dow of  a  shade" — although  the  last  of  the  race  had  drawn 
a  cowl  over  his  "  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown,"  and,  in  ac- 
cepting the  generous  aid  of  his  cousin  of  Hanover,  had 
virtually  abdicated  his  claim  to  royalty — still  there  were 
those  who  carefully  applied  the  principle  of  ^^  nullum 
tem^us  occurrit  regV^  to  the  case  of  the  exiled  dynasty. 
An  inscription  in  the  crypt  of  St.  Peter's  tells  us  that 
three  unrecognised  kings  of  England  sleep  below;  and 
while  this  subterranean  record  implies  claims  to  the  throne 
of  Britain  never  abandoned,  it  seems  very  probable  that 
the  ruling  monarch  and  his  advisers  thought  a  monument 
above  ground  well  bestowed  which  would  delicately,  but 
distinctly,  establish  the  fact,  that  the  last  of  these  "  phan- 
tom kings"  had  left  "no  child  of  his  succeeding." 

When  "Michael  Angelo,"  planning  the  dome  of  his 
mighty  work,  answered  the  challenge  to  produce  anything 
equal  to  the  Pantheon  cupola  by  the  proud  hravade  that 
he  " tvould  Jiang  the  Fantheon  in  mid-air"  he  obliged  1 
himself  to  raise  the  body  of  the  building  on  a  vast  sub- 
structure, so  as  to  give  it  a  dignity  corresponding  to  the 
magnificent  conception  overhead.  The  result  of  this  has 
been  the  leaving  of  a  cryptic  vault  under  the  level  of  the 

e:2 


132  GLEiLNINGS  AFTEB  "  GEAIH)  T0UE'*-ISTS. 


present  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's,  and  on  the  level  of  the 
ancient  one,  of  which  last  some  of  the  rude  mosaic  pave- 
ment still  remains  in  situ.  In  this  crjpt  lie  buried  popes 
in  long  series,  and  among  them,  in  conspicuous  places,  re- 
pose the  bones  of  those  unchronicled  sovereigns,  James  III., 
Charles  III.,  and  Henry  IX.  of  England. 

By  an  absurd  distinction,  though  men  may  descend 
into  this  crypt  whenever  they  see  a  party  about  to  enter 
it,  females  can  only  be  admitted  under  a  special  per- 
mission. I  had  more  than  once  gone  down  under  the 
conduct  of  one  of  the  army  o^  sagristani  who  garrison  tlie 
magnificent  vestry  of  the  church,  named  Pietro  PetrucMo, 
and  with  whom,  in  my  frequent  visits  to  St.  Peter's,  I  had 
established  a  kind  of  familiar  acquaintance.  It  is  true 
that  every  time  he  saw  me  he  asked  regularly  "  if  I  was 
not  a  Spaniard?"  and  I  as  regularly  informed  him  that 
"  I  was  an  Irlandese,''  at  which  intelligence  he  always 
expressed  himself  highly  gratified,  and  next  day  asked  the 
question  over  again  as  pertinaciously  as  ever.  Our  friend- 
ship, subject  to  this  mistake,  continued  uninterrupted, 
until  in  an  evil  hour,  within  his  own  proper  "  manour  and 
hunting-ground" — the  Crypt — I  was  so  unwise  and  uncivil 
as  to  impugn  the  authenticity  of  one  of  his  stock  stories, 
and  thenceforward  Pietro  Petruchio  "  knew  my  face  no 
more ;"  he  "  cut  me"  with  as  cool  and  deadly  nonchalance 
as  ever  man  of  fashion  brought  to  bear  on  a  poor  relation 
or  vulgar  friend. 

A  batch  of  ladies  of  my  acquaintance  had  obtained  the 
necessary  permission  to  visit  the  crypt,  and  abounding 
as  it  did  with  recollections,  remnants  of  ancient  bas-re- 
liefs, and  other  ^'oggetti  inter essanti,''^  I  was  only  too  glad 


"  NOTABILIA  OF  ST.  PETER's." 


133 


again  to  descend  as  their  escort,  and  refresh  my  impres- 
sions of  a  place  which,  seen  by  the  dim  light  of  the  sa- 
cristan's taper,  was  too  likely  to  be  obscured  and  jostled 
from  its  place  on  the  tablet  of  memory  by  the  quick  suc- 
cession of  things  and  places  crowding  on  one  in  the  "  upper 
air,"  and  in  the  "  glarish  light  of  day." 

Of  this  party  with  whom  I  thus  explored  the  very  inner 
shrine  of  the  Apostles,  one  was  a  Scottish  lady  of  high 
birth  and  historic  name,  identified  with  the  two  desperate 
attempts  made  in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century  to 
replace  the  Stuarts  on  the  throne  of  Britain.  It  so  hap- 
pens, that  I  descend  from  a  family  which,  though  sufficiently 
humble  and  obscure,  had  been  thought  worthy  of  being 
included  nominatim  in  the  wholesale  proscribing  act  of 
James  II.'s  Irish  Parliament,  in  1689-90,  and  thus,  by  one 
of  those  singular  casualties  which  sometimes  occur,  the 
descendants  of  the  Scottish  Jacobite  and  the  Irish  Wil- 
liamite  stood  musing  side  by  side  at  the  tomb  of  the  last 
of  the  Stuarts,  in  the  subterranean  church  of  St.  Peter. 

As  I  looked  at  my  companion  in  the  light  of  Pietro 
Petruchio's  torch,  I  thought  I  saw  her  eye  glisten  and 
dilate  while  I  interpreted  to  her  the  simple  inscription  on 
the  tomb,  and  I  ventured  the  suggestive  question, 

"  I  suppose  you  find  all  your  Jacobite  enthusiasm  kindle 
and  glow  fiercely  here  ?" 

Whether  the  ladv  felt 

"  displeased  that  stranger  view'd 
And  tampered  with  her  soften'd  mood," 

or  that  my  inquiry  had  turned  the  current  of  thought  into 
a  reactionary  direction,  she  answered  me,  coldly  and  calmly 
enough : 


13^ 


<i 


»» 


GLEAKIITGS  ATTEE  *' GEAI^D  TOUE   -ISTS. 


"  On  the  contrary,  at  times,  and  £ir  away  from  this,  I 
have  felt,  that  if  all  our  family  have  done  and  suffered  for 
the  Stuarts  were  to  be  done  and  suffered  again,  I  would 
not  prevent  it  by  a  single  word  ;  but  here,  by  a  strange 
revulsion  of  feeling,  the  follies,  the  faults,  the  judicially 
perverted  judgment  which  sent  them  from  the  throne  to 
die  away  outcasts  and  pensioners  in  strange  lands,  pass 
in  long  array  before  me,  and  I  am  a  Jacobite  no  longer." 

"  How  strange,"  said  I,  in  reply,  "are  the  contradic- 
tions and  reactionary  moods  of  the  human  mind !  Xow, 
here  I  stand,  one  of  a  family  whose  antecedents  and  tradi- 
tions are  all  bound  up  with  wrong  and  oppression  received 
at  the  hands  of  the  Stuarts,  and  whose  personal  politics 
have  ever  been  those  of  the  Eevolution  of  1688  ;  and  yet 
here  I  can  think  of  nothing,  remember  nothing,  but  '  the 
long  line  of  kings'  which  died  out  in  the  last  of  those 
'who  sleep  below.' " 

While  we  thus  compared  impressions,  Pietro  Petruchio 
stood  by,  taper  in  hand,  anxious  to  resume  his  Cicerone 
description  of  bas-reliefs,  and  other  rich  remnants  of  anti- 
quity around  us,  and  then  and  there  it  was  that  our  young 
friendship  suffered  a  disruption,  never,  I  fear,  to  be  re- 
paired : 

"  This,"  he  said,  holding  the  light  to  a  marble  panel  of 
exquisite  carving  set  in  the  wall,  "  is  the  celebrated 
sorcerer,  Simon  Magus,  pleading  before  the  tyrant ;  you 
perceive  the  grace  of  the  attitude,  and  the  fall  of  the  dra- 
pery, and  also  the  fierceness  in  th€  face  of  the  judge " 

"  "Who  is  the  judge  ?"  asked  some  one  of  the  party. 

"  Nero  !"  answered  Pietro  Petruchio,  promptly  and  de- 
cidedly. 


"  KOTABILIA  OF  ST,  PBTEE's 


il 


1S5 


(I  should  observe  that  on  this  as  on  other  occasions, 
I  remarked,  that  in  Eoman  tradition,  iVero  seems  to  stand 
as  the  embodiment  of  cruelty  and  persecution,  and  when- 
ever any  undefined  or  unascertained  scene  or  act  of  early 
Christian  suffering  is  inquired  about,  it  is  without  hesita- 
tion laid  at  Nero's  door.*) 

Here  it  was  that,  in.  an  evil  hour,  I  must  needs  come  in 
with  my  mdapert  show  of  Biblical  erudition,  and  intrude 
on  Pietro  Petruchio' s  established  province  of  explanation. 

"  But,'*  said  I,  "  surely  it  could  not  be  before  Nero, 
for  Simon  Magus  was  never  at  Eome."t 

"  Oh,  pardon.  Signer,"  said  Pietro,  "  indeed  he  was!" 

Then  my  lady  friends  and  I  compared  notes  as  to  our 
recollections  of  the  Scripture  narrative,  and  again  I  said, 

"  Surely  it  was  in  Samaria  that  St.  Peter  reproved  Simon 
Magus!" 

"  Apparently  the  Signor  knows  better  than  I  do,"  re- 
plied the  sagristano,  m  high  and  evident  displeasure. 
And  thereupon  his  brow  fell,  and  the  fashion  of  his  coun- 
tenance towards  me  was  altered.   He  went  through  the 

*  See  Appendix. 

f  Had  my  friend  "  Pietro  Petruchio"  been  acquainted  with  the  epi- 
gram which  cost  its  luckless  but  witty  author,  John  Owen,  an  inheri- 
tance (being  disinherited,  therefor,  by  an  unforgiving  uncle!),  he  might 
have  quoted  it  as  an  "  adjudged  case,"  to  prove  that  the  great  master  of 
SmoNY  had  been  at  Rome. 

"  An  Petrus  faerit  Romas,  sub  judice  lis  est ; 
Simonem  Romaj,  nemo  fuisse  negat." 

If  Peter  e'er  saw  Rome,  in  question  lies ; 
That  Simon  taught  there,  nobody  denies. 

But  Roman  sacristans,  or  even  higher  ecclesiastical  functionaries,  are 
scantily  conversant  with  general  literature,  indeed  one  might  weU  say 
any  literature. 


136 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-I8TS. 


remainder  of  his  exposition  with  formal  politeness,  but 
he  evidently  felt  that  infallible  exposition  had  been  insulted 
in  his  person;  and  though  we  often  met  in  St.  Peter's 
afterwards,  he  treated  me  with  a  visible  coldness,  which, 
as  I  felt  I  had  brought  on  myself,  so  I  was  obliged  to 
submit  to  with  resignation. 

As  you  ascend  from  the  crypt  by  a  small  door  opening 
"  under  the  invocation  of  that  very  questionable  custode, 
"  Saint  Veronictty^*  you  are  invited  to  look  up  at  what  is 
generally  called  the  "finest  point  of  view"  in  the  whole 
gorgeous  temple,  the  upward  efiect  of  the  mighty  dome 
overhead.  It  is  certainly  a  magnificent  span,  fully  rea- 
lising the  vast  conception  and  proud  boast  of  the  architect 
already  alluded  to.  And  yet,  even  beneath  the  very 
cupola  of  St.  Peter's,  I  must  broach  heresy !  to  me  the 
internal  efiect  of  the  dome  of  the  Pantheon  is,  beyond 
comparison,  finer.  I  came  to  this  decision  before  I  had 
I  seen  that  Mr.  Addison,  in  his  "  Eemarks  on  Italy,"  arrives 
,  at  the  same  conclusion,  and  on  the  same  grounds  ;  and  I 
feel  so  vain  of  this  coincidence,  that  I  am  tempted  to  en- 
large a  little  on  a  subject  which  I  have  not  seen  noticed 
by  modern  observers. 

When  Michael  Angelo  applied  his  master-mind  to  the 
plan  of  St.  Peter's,  it  may  be  supposed  that  he  studied 
deeply  the  beauties  and  defects  of  all  existing  models  be- 
fore he  gave  forth  his  own  grand  conception.  It  is  said  that, 
after  having  looked  long  and  fixedly  on  the  elevation  of  the 
Duomo  of  his  own  native  Florence,  he  exclaimed,  "  I  cannot 
surpass,  and  I  will  not  imitate"  (meglior  non  possumo,  come 
te  non  vuolo)  ;  nor  is  it  to  be  regretted  that  he  eschewed 

*  See  Appendix. 


"  NOTABILIA  OF  ST.  PETEE'S." 


K7 


the  example  before  him.  There  is  a  "  drum-liJce  bareness" 
in  the  outside  of  the  Florence  dome ;  and  the  octagonal 
form  takes  so  much  from  the  symmetrical  efiect  of  the 
interior,  that  if  copied  into  St.  Peter's  the  grandeur  of 
effect  would  assuredly  have  been  impaired;  and  though 
I  believe  the  adoption  of  the  octagonal  form  would  have 
lessened  some  mechanical  difficulties  in  the  construction 
of  the  work,  it  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  grandeur  of 
Buonarotti's  genius  to  forget  a  difficulty  in  arriving  at 
completeness  of  design. 

Again,  from  which  ever  of  the  many  points  of  view  which 
command  it,  you  look  down  upon  the  Pantheon  of  Agrippa, 
it  is  impossible  not  to  be  impressed  with  the  meanness  of 
its  external  appearance ;  its  ground  level  is  scarce  above 
the  ordinary  flow  of  the  adjacent  Tiber,  which  often  floods 
its  interior;  and  while,  as  looked  at  from  within,  the 
Pantheon  dome  expands  above  you  into  a  simple,  effective 
grandeur  which  is  unrivalled,  looked  upon  ah  extra,  it  is 
among  adjacent  buildings  scarce  distinguishable  in  what, 
for  want  of  a  better  word,  I  must  call  its — dumpy-ness. 

This  fact  would  naturally  suggest  to  the  master-mind 
of  Buonarotti  that  the  effect  and  grandeur  of  a  dome 
depends  upon  different,  nay,  conflicting  causes,  accord- 
ing as  it  is  viewed  internally  or  externally:  internally, 
the  more  the  arch  is  depressedy  the  more  will  the  ex- 
panse impress  itself  on  the  beholder,  while  externally 
this  depression  of  the  arc  contributes  to  deprive  the  dome 
of  effect  and  dignity.  Here,  then,  in  the  Pantheon  was 
exhibited  for  Michael  Angelo's  purpoge  an  effect  to  be 
attained  and  a  defect  to  be  avoided ;  for  if  the  dome  of 
St.  Peter's  was  to  be  "  hung  in  the  air,"  it  was  as  a  beacon 
to  the  approaching  pilgrims,  while  yet  at  a  distance  from 


138 


GLEAKIliTaS  iLTTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


if. 


the  "Imperial  City,"  announcing  tlie  grandeur  of  that 
chief  temple,  which  thus  hangs  out  its  standard  to  ad- 
miring Christendom. 

The  problem  of  Buonarotti,  then,  was  to  construct  a 
dome  which  should  be  equally  grand  and  effective,  whether 
seen  from  within  or  without ;  and  the  mode  in  which  he 
solved  this  was  simple  and  yet  sublime.  If,  as  ItJiiuk,  he 
has  in  some  measure  fallen  short  of  the  internal  effect  of 
the  Pantheon  cupok,  he  has,  with  transcendent  ability, 
corrected  its  external  fault  of  meanness.* 

*  Believing  as  I  do  the  principle  stated  in  the  text,  as  to  the  effect  of 
a  dome  viewed  internally  and  externally,  to  be  true  and  correct,  it  seems 
remarkable  that  the  author  of  "  The  Parkntalia"  (the  rare  and  curious 
Memoirs  of  "  The  Wbkns"),  who  enters  at  some  length  into  this  subject, 
should  represent  the  plan  of  the  domes  of  St.  Peter's  and  St.  Paul's  as 
having  been  each  formed  rather  in  subservience  to  a  false  taste  than  to 
carry  out  any  true  rule,  or  correct  any  defect  in  the  ancient  models.  He 
thus  speaks  of  Bramante  (it  should  be  Michael  Angelo)  and  of  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren,  as  both  rather  "  gratifying  the  general  taste  of  the  age" 
than  guiding  and  forming  it : 

"  Among  aU  the  compositions  of  the  ancients,  we  find  no  cupolas 
raised  above  the  necessary  loading  of  the  hemisphere,  as  is  seen  imrticu- 
larly  in  the  Pantheon.  In  after  ages,  the  dome  of  Florence  and  of  the 
great  church  of  Venice  were  raised  higher.  The  Saracens  haughtily 
affected  it  in  imitation  of  the  first  emment  pattern  given  by  Justinian 
in  the  temple  of  Santa  Sophia,  at  Constantinople.  Bramante  (?)  would 
not  fall  short  of  these  examples,  nor  cmld  the  surveyor  (Sir  Christopher 
Wren)  do  ^otherwise  than  gratify  the  general  taste  of  the  age,  which 
had  been  so  used  to  steeples!  that  these  round  designs  were  hardly  re- 
garded, unless  raised  to  a  remarkable  height:'— Parentalia. 
Again  he  says : 

"  The  Pantheon  is  no  higher  than  its  diameter.     St.  Peter's  is  two 
diameters:  this  shows  too  high!  that  too  low.  (?)     The  surveyor  of  St. 
Paul's  took  a  mean  proportion,  which  shows  its  concave  every  way." 
And  further: 

"  It  was  necessary  !o  give  a  greater  height  than  the  cupola  would 
gracefuUy  allmo  toithin.  He  (Sir  Christopher  Wren)  was  obliged  to  comply 
with  the  humour  of  the  age,  though  not  with  ancient  examples,  as  neither 


"l5rOTABILIA  OF  ST.  PETEe'S." 


1S9 


When,  after  threading  your  way  through  the  little  town 
of  workmen  who  live  in  settled  habitations  on  the  roof  of 
St.  Peter's,  in  order  to  attend  to  the  repair  and  preservation 
of  the  fabric,  you  ascend  the  dome  itself,  your  way  lies 
through  a  passage,  which  at  first  requires  you  to  bend 
yourself  to  one  side  in  accommodation  to  the  upper  curve 
of  the  fabric.    Presently,  however,  the  passage,  everywhere 
clean  and  of  easy  acclivity,  becomes  graduaUy  wider  and 
more  elevated ;  long  before  you  arrive  at  the  first  gaUery 
you  can  not  only  walk  erect,  but  the  vaulting  graduaUy 
rises  into  loftiness  overhead,  and  then  Michael  Angelo's 
grand  conception  begins  to  develop  itself.     You  perceive 
that  you  are  passing  between  two  distinct  marble  domes, 
each  of  equally  solid  construction,  the  inner  and  depressed 
one  calculated  to  emulate  the  effect  of  the  Pantheon  as 
looked  up  to  from  within,  the  other,  with  no  rival  to  its 
grandeur  of  proportion,  springing  up  into  mid-air  to  claim 
the  admiration  of  the  beholder  from  without .     How  much 
this  double  construction  must  have  added  to  the  expense 
and  difficulty  of  the  work  is  evident ;  but  what  was  either 
expense  or  difficulty  to  a  mind  like  Michael  Angelo's, 
when  projecting  the  monument  which  was  to  show  forth 
his  genius  to  future  generations  !* 

did  Bramante,  (?)  and  to  raise  another  structure  over  the  first  cupola,  and 
this  was  a  course  of  brick,  so  buUt  as  to  support  a  stone  lantern  of  an 
elegant  structure,  and  ending  in  an  ornament  of  copper."  (Any  one  who 
has  studied  the  completeness  of  the  facade  of  St.  Paul's  will  easily  cor- 
rect the  mistake  in  the  foregoing  assertion,  that  the  designer  had  elevated 
the  cupola  in  mere  compliance  with  vulgar  taste.) 

*  I  should  depart  from  my  resolve  not  to  treat  of  themes  better 
handled  by  others,  if  I  mdulged  myself  in  noticing  the  traces  of  Michael 
Angelo's  giant  genius  which  meet  one  at  every  turn ;  but  I  may  observe 
that  he  has  left  memorials  of  a  mind  truly  great,  in  showmg  that  he 


140 


»» 


GLEANINGS  ATTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


With  an  admissible  ostentation,  St.  Peter's  marks  off, 
on  its  own  surpassing  length  of  nave,  the  relative  lengths 
of  other  great  buildings  of  the  world.  "  Froximus  sed 
longo  intervallo''  (as  520  to  613)  comes  our  own  St.  Paul's ; 
next  tlie  duomo  of  Milan ;  close  on  that  the  now  rebuild- 
ing church  of  "St.  Paulo, /wori  murer  and  no  other 
temple  in  Christendom  is  to  be  named  in  the  same  cate- 
gory. The  mosque  of  St.  Sophia  at  Constantinople  is 
produced  rather  in  the  way  of  contrast,  as  not  much 
exceeding  half  the  measurement  of  the  great  Koman 
temple.  "  Oh !  but  to  compare  St.  Peter's  and  anything 
else  is"—"  absurd,"  say  some,  triumphantly—"  unfair," 
say  others,  apologetically. 

In  the  face  of  exulters  and  apologists,  I  will  affirm  that 
(when  some  matters  which  should  not  be  left  out  of  calcu- 
lation are  taken  into  account)  a  comparison  between  the 
Eoman  wonder  and  our  own  great  London  cathedral  may 

could  take  up  the  most  minute,  as  well  as  grasp  the  largest  subject.    It 
was  he  who  planned  St.  Peter's ;— it  was  he  who  designed  that  picturesque 
dress  in  which  the  Pope's  Swiss  Guards  so  well  assimilate  themselves  to  the 
Vatican  Portal ;— it  was  he  who  hung  the  Pantheon  in  the  air— and  who 
then  gave  the  idea  of  that  glowing  illumination  in  which  St.  Peter's  hangs 
itself  out  as  a  symboUc  light  to  the  world  on  the  evening  of  its  high- 
day,  Easter  Monday.     In  this  last  splendescent  exhibition  there  is  one 
feature  peculiarly  effective:  midway  in  the  swell  of  the  dome  ranges  a 
circle  of  smaU  windows  or  apertures,  obviously  intended  to  give  light 
and  air  to  the  interior,  but  on  illuminated  nights  turned  to  account  to 
produce  a  striking  and  admirable  effect.     They  are  hung  and  garnished 
with  a  white  and  peculiar  light,  of  different  hue  from  the  galaxy  of 
lamps  around;  between  them  hang  festoons  of  light,  also  of  a  different 
colour,  and  when  viewed  from  a  distance— from  the  Pincian,  the  Trinita 
di  Monti,  or  other  heights  commanding  the  spectacle— this  pecuHar  circlet 
has  all  the  effect  of  a  brilliant  necklace  adorning  the  bust  of  a  beautiful 
female.     It  struck  me  that  this  design  was,  in  its  way,  as  marked  a  proof 
of  Michael  Angelo's  genius  as  even  greater  achievements. 


"  KOTABILIA  OF  ST.  PETEE's." 


141 


be  instituted  without  any  great  reason  for  boast  on  the 
one  hand,  or  sense  of  mortified  inferiority  on  the  other. 

These  buildings  are  much  of  the  same  order  of  architec- 
ture, and  viewing  each  as  the  result  relatively  of  the 
resources    and    exertions    of   the  Eomish   and  English 
Churches,  I  do  consider  that,  whether  you  regard  the  time 
occupied,  the  money  spent,  or  the  effect  produced,  the 
London  pile  is  a  much  more  wonderful  result  for  a  single 
nation  to  have  produced,   than  St.  Peter's  for  all  the 
combined  energies  and  contributions  of  the  Popedom.     It 
is  true  that,  taken  in  detail,  the  execution  of  St.  Peter's  is 
vastly  superior :  its  doulle  domes  are  both  of  marble,  where 
St.  Paul's  are  of  brick,  covered  with  coppered  wood  ;   in- 
ternally its  cupola  is  of  fine  and  imperishable  mosaic,  where 
its  rival's  can  show  but  the  fading  and  ^eeZ%  frescoes*  of 
Thornhill ;  the  walls  and  pillars  of  St.  Peter's  are  cased 
in  rich  and  variegated  marbles,  where  St.  Paul's  shows  but 
one  sober  hue  of  Portland  stone  colour  through  its  whole 
area.     Then,  as  to  general  effect,  St.  Peter's  stands  in  its 

•  In  an  age  when  Church  restoration  and  adornment  has  taken  a  re- 
markable possession  of  many  minds,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  remind  the 
present  guardians  of  the  fabric  of  St.  Paul's— who  must  feel  deep  morti- 
fication whenever  they  happen  to  look  up  at  its  dingy  and  fast-destroy- 
ing frescoes— that  the  original  design  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren  was  to 
have  had  it  adorned  with  the  same  imperishable  material  as  its  great 
rival.     The  author  of  the  ^^ Parentalia"  tells  us: 

"  The  judgment  of  the  surveyor  was  originally,  instead  of  pamting 
in  the  manner  it  is  now  performed,  to  have  beautified  the  inside  of  the 
cupola  with  the  more  durable  ornament  of  mosaic-work,  as  nobly  executed 
in  the  cupola  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  which  strikes  the  eye  of  the  beholder 
with  the  most  magnificent  and  splendid  appearance,  and  which,  without 
the  least  decay  of  colours,  is  as  lasting  as  marble,  or  the  building  itself." 

Wren's  intention  was  marred  by  the  "churchwarden"  obstacles  of 
expense!  and  ignorance  of  the  lasting  qualities  of  mosaic,  as  compared 
with  the  best-preserved  efforts  of  the  brush  and  pencil. 


142 


GLEANINGS  APTEE  "  GSAND-TOXJE^-ISTS. 


magnificent  Piazza,  set  off  to  the  utmost  advantage*  by  its 
colonnades,   its  fountains,  its  obelisk,   its  ricli-coloured 
stone,  rather  mellowing  than  spoiling  with  time  under 
the  influence  of  its  dry  climate  and  unsmoky  atmosphere. 
St.  Paul's,  on  the  other  hand,  if  well  placed,  rises  out  of 
such  a  network  of  dirt  and  dinginess,  is  so  shouldered,  as 
it  were,  by  its  shabby  neighbours  of  "  The  Kow"    and 
"The  Lane,"  and,  moreover,  is  yearly  accumulating  such 
deposits  from  the  coal-smoke  of  London,  that  its  effect  on 
the  beholder  is  most  sadly  diminished ;  and,  whether  on 
the  Hill  of  Ludgate,    or  in  the  roaring  and  whirling 
thoroughfare  miscalled  "  St.  Paul's  Churchyard!"  there  is 
not  a  spot  where  an  admirer  can  pause  for  a  long  or 
critical  look  at  the  details  or  general  effect  of  its  architec- 
ture.    So  far  all  comparison  is  in  favour  of  the  foreign 
temple ;  but  now  we  come  to  consider  some  circumstances 
which  go  far  to  qualify  the  admitted  superiority— St.  Peter's 
is  the  work  of  a  century  and  a  half !  of  a  succession  of 
twelve  architects   and  nineteen  popes,  of  subsidies  and 
contributions  (how  levied  let  Tetzell  and  his  fellows  tell) 
gathered  through  all  the  realms  of  the  Papacy.     St.  Paul's 
is  the  work  of  thirty-five  years!   of  a  single  architect, 

*  As  we  looked  down  from  the  roof  of  St.  Peter's  towards  St.  An- 
gelo,  one  of  my  daughters  remarked,  that  to  complete  the  plan  and  give 
full  effect  to  the  approach  to  the  Piazza,  the  whole  block  of  buildings  in 
front  and  between  it  and  the  bridge  should  be  swept  away.  The  moment 
the  observation  was  made  it  approved  itself  to  the  taste  and  judgment ; 
and  I  gave  the  youthful  suggestor  credit  for  the  boldness  of  a  conception 
which  involved  the  annihilation  of  a  suburb  as  large  as  a  good-sized  vil- 
lage. I  afterwards  found,  on  looking  into  the  history  of  Michael  Angelo's 
original  design,  that  this  very  removal  had  formed  part  of  it.  An  umn- 
terrupted  view  from  the  Bridge  of  St.  Angelo  would  leave  nothing  to  be 
desired  to  show  hia  work  to  advantage. 


"notabilia  of  ST.  petee's. 


>> 


143 


under  a  single  bishop,  and  was  erected  by  funds  derived 
from  a  scarce-felt  tax  on  a  single  article  of  import  to  the 
one  chief  city— of  one  national  and  unaided  Church.     The 
plan  and  execution  of  St.  Paul's,  complete  and  harmo- 
nising in  themselves,   bespeak  in  the   unity  of  concep- 
tion that  they  are  the  work  of  one  man,  who  lived  to  see 
his  work  perfected,  and  whose  greatness  is  recorded  in 
the  simply  expressive  inscription,  "  Si  monvipnentum  queris 
ciretmspice:'     The  great  architect  of  St.  Peter's  left  his 
plan  unexecuted,  to  be  altered,  disfigured,  returned  to, 
then  altered  again  by  a  succession  of  inferior  minds,  from 
Bramante  to  Bernini ;  and  finally,  those  who  examine  this 
great  work  with  a  critical  eye  can  easily  see  the  several 
expedients  successively  resorted  to  with  a  view  to  remedy 
defects,  and  provide  for  overlooked  necessities,  such  as 
supplemental  cupolas,  the  incongruous  attics,  and  such  are 
even  the  grand  colonnades  of  the  Piazza  without.     Un- 
questionably the  grandeur  of  the  whole  effect  of   St. 
Peter's,  as  you  look  at  or  go  through  it,  silences  criticism 
as  to  its  detail ;  yet,  when  regarded  dispassionately,  and 
comparatively  to  its  English  counterpart,  and  taking  the 
one  as  the  work  of  a  single  nation  and  Church,  the  other 
as  the  result  of  the  combined  exertion  of  the  Popedom 
throughout  all  its  territories,  agencies,  and  resources  for 
raising  funds,  I  would  again  affirm  that  the  London  ca- 
thedral need  not  be  ashamed  of  the  comparison. 

And  here,  to  dispose  in  one  word  of  the  relative  merits 
of  English  and  Italian  church  architecture,  whether  it  be 
looked  for  in  the  modest  and  simple  parish  church,  or  in 
the  magnificent  "Minster,"  let  no  one  leave  England  to 
look  for  finer  models  than  he  will  find  at  home     In  the 


144  GLEANINGS  ArTEE  "  GEAIO)  TOUR   -ISTS. 

«  Chiese,"  "  Duomi,"  or  "  BasiHcas"  of  the  South,  all  that 
marble  and  gold,  and  "three-piled  ornament"  can  do,  is 
done  for  Italian  chuiches— within  at   least;   but  to  a 
chastened  taste,  formed  from  the  finished  models  of  our 
own  Korman  or  Gothic,  or  their  intermediate  styles  of 
architecture,  the  comparison  of  the  best  Italian  church 
with  the  solemn  majesty  of  "  Winchester,"  the  complete- 
ness of  "  Salisbury,"  the  aerial  grace  of  "  Wells,"  or  the 
finished  magnificence  of  York  Minster,  will  at  once  appear 
"  odious."     As  for  their  St.  Peter's  and  our  St.  Paul's, 
ecclesiologists  rather  unceremoniously   dismiss  both  to- 
gether  from  the  category  of  "  church  architecture"  to  that 
of  the  "  Pagan  temple,"  as  being  both  alike  deficient  in 
that  which  should  be  the  leading  idea  in  the  construc- 
tion of  a  Christian  church,  namely,  the  ascending  line 
which  symbolises  that  "blessed  hope"  held  forth  in  the 
"  Doctrine  of  Kesurrection." 


"ad  STATUAS" — THE  VATICAN  BY  TOECHLIGHT.      145 


CHAPTEE  YIII. 


"ad   STATUAS    — THE  VATICAN  BY  TOECHLIGHT. 


The  book-shop  of  Signer  Piale,  in  the  "  Piazza  di 
Spagna,"  is  the  Eoman  substitute  for  the  Englishman's 
"Subscription  Library,"  "Club,"  and  "Agency  Office" 
at  home.  It  is  flanked  on  the  one  hand  by  the  old  "  CaSe 
Greco"  in  the  "  Condotti,"  where,  if  you  wish  to  study  at 
leisure  the  ruffian  costume  and  farouche  airs  which  the 
would-be  Raphaels  of  the  artist- world  afi"ect,  you  can  do 
so  under  shelter  of  a  cup  of  ffood  cofiee,  provided  you  do 
not  insult  the  attendant  by  calling  him  '' camerierey* 
On  the  other  side,  in  the  Piazza,  Piale's  is  bounded  by  a 
more  modern  caffe,  where,  if  you  can  make  your  way 

*  The  Caflf  e  Greco  at  Rome  is  said  to  maintain  the  same  absolutism 
as  that  old-established  London  City  Tavern,  where,  if  you  do  not  call 
for  your  dinner  according  to  the  formula  of  the  habitues  of  the  house, 
thus,  ^^  A  pint  of  port  and  beefsteak!"  you  will  be  indifferently  served ; 
should  you  invert  the  precise  order  of  the  words  and  call  for  "  ^  beef- 
steak and  pint  of  port!'*  you  will  fare  no  better  for  this  bungled  counter- 
sign. In  like  manner  the  Caffe  Greco,  though  it  might  long  since  have 
taken  rank  as  a  foremost  Roman  coffee-house,  will  only  answer  to  the 
word  "  botega"  (shop),  and  serves  its  customers  over  the  counter ;  you 
would  insult  the  attendant  by  the  term  "  cameriere"  (waiter),  just  as  the 
"  freebom"  American  "  Ae/p"  is  outraged  by  being  called  "  servant." 


146  eLEAHINOS  AETEB  "  GBASD  TOTIk"-ISTS. 

ttrougli  the  "/«»•  «'^«'''"  g'^^^P^  ''^°  ^°™^^  *^'"'! 
"morning."  "noon,"  and  "night,"  you  may  be  served 
with  a  tolerable  ice !  Between  these  proveditori  for  bodily 
wants,  Signer  Piale  offers  food  for  your  mind  in  things 
new  and  old ;  «  real  English  and  Irish  newspapers,"  as 
well  as  "  Galignaui.gleanings,"/o»-«i7»  editions  of  English 
authors,  "standard"  and  "modern,"  and  this  m  an  un- 
restricted freedom  and  profusion,  which  you  might  not 
anticipate  in  the  native  ^^ habitat^'  of  the  "Index  prohf 

hitormn  Ulrorum." 

I  keep  among  the  "rare  and  curious"  books  of  my 
library  a  volume,  of  which  the  following  is  a  description : 
Written  in  England,  in  an  anti-papal  strain,  marvellous  in 
a  degenerate  follower  of  the  Whigs  of  1688  ;  printed  by 
some  pirate  publisher  in  republican  New  York ;  sold  and 
dressed  (in  the  delicate  calf  costume  of  Soman  binding) 
under  the  nose  of  ultra-montane  censorship,  and  brought 
home  again  by  a  smusglinff  purchaser,  through  a  thousand 
"Dogana"  dangers  by  "flood  and  field,"-I  look  upon 
my  copy  of  "Macaulay's  History  of  England"  as  quite  a 
literary  curiosity  in  its  way,  the  wonder  of  which  reaches 
its  climax  when  I  mention,  that  of  this  work  (the  "  trade 
price"  of  which  is  one  guinea  and  a  half!  at  home)  I  be- 
came the  possessor  for  about  five  or  six  shillings.    Thmk 
of  this,  brother  book-purchasers,  and  sigh.    But  all  evils 
work  their  own  cure    at   the  last,   and  sooner  or  later 
the  "  besom  of  reformation  "  will  reach  the  craft  of  the 
bibliopole,  as  well  as  other  "  departmental  abuses !" 

Besides  furnishing  his  news  and  his  literature,  Piale 
serves,  to  the  Englishman  at  Eome,  as  his  "  general  adver- 


"  AD  STATUAS*' — THE  TATICAIT  BY  TOECHLIGHT.      147 


tiser ;"  to  his  shelves  are  affixed  "  notices  of  all  kinds," 
"  of  every  want  and  every  want's  supply."     Here  catch 
the  eye,  "  Lodgings  to  Let ;"  "  A  Piano  Primo  "Wanted  ;" 
"  Articles  of  Vertn  for  Sale  ;"  travellers  or  excursionists 
desirous  to  find  or  to  make  up  a  party — all  proclaim  their 
wants  and  wishes  at  Piale's.    One  man  bound  for  the  "  far 
Orient,"  and  unwilling  to  give  his  Long- Acre  britschka 
"for  a  song,"  announces  that  "any  English  gentleman 
may  have  the  use  of  it  to  Plorence,  Geneva,  or  other 
given  point  on  the  road  homewards,  for  paying  the  post- 
in  f'."     Does  a  party  travelling  "  vetturino"  wish  for  two 
or  more  to  complete  cargo?  or  does  a  solitary  tourist 
desire  to  visit  Tivoli  or  Prescati  in  company  ?  the  wish  in 
these,  or  similar  cases,  is  proclaimed  in  a  short  notice, 
inviting  further  conference,  affiche  to  Signer  Piale's  book- 
shelves, as  the  only  advertising  medium  in  Eome. 

"  Vacant!  four  places  in  a  torchliglit  party  to  the  Vati- 
can,'' was  an  announcement  which  caught  my  eye  one 
morning,  and  led  to  further  inquiries,  which  resulted  in 
engaging  for  "  self  and  fellows"  the  vacancies,  and  thereby 
bringing  away  some  recollections  of  those  wondrous  halls 
of  statuary,  more  indelible  than  a  series  of  visits  made  in 
the  glJire  of  sunshine,  and  the  stream  of  visitors  on  open 
days,  could  have  impressed  on  the  mind. 

A  night  visit  to  the  Vatican  is  a  matter  involving  some 
expense,  and  requiring,  it  is  said,  some  diplomatic  nego- 
tiation, through  artistic  dragomanship,  with  the  chamber- 
lain, or  master  of  the  Vatican  Palace ;  of  this,  however,  I 
can  speak  nothing  positive,  for  my  party  had  been  framed 
and  arranged  before  I  was  an  admitted  participator.     I 

l2 


148  GLEANIKGS  APTEB  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 

beHeve  the  affair  must  be  committed  to  some  sculptor  of 
recognised  position  in  Eome,  who  must  himself  make  one 
of  the  party,  as  lecturer  on  the  beauties,  arranger  of  the 
lights,  and,  moreover,  as  held  answerable  for  the  decorum 
and  good  conduct  of  his  convoy.    The  party  must  not 
exceed  t^'elve  persons,  exclusive  of  the  keepers  and  Swiss 
Guards,  and  but  one  party  is  admissible  each  night.    The 
expense  is  considerable ;  hence  the  anxiety  to  have  the 
full  complement,  that  the  proportional  charge  may  be 
lighter  to  each.    The  items  of  this  charge  are,  for  the 
keepers  detained  on  their  posts  after  public  hours,  for 
Smss  Guards  on  extra  duty,  obliged  to  go  round  with 
the  visitors,  and  themselves,  in  their  picturesque  "  Mi- 
chaelAngelo-e^gwe"  costumes,  constituting  not  the  least 
striking  part  of  the  exhibition.     In  fact,  a  night-party  to 
the  Vatican  may  be  considered  tantamount  to  running  a 
"  special  train"  on  a  railway !  which,  inasmuch  as  it  puts 
the  whole  establishment  on  the   alert  for  that  single 
business,  must  be  paid  for  accordingly ;  and  adding  to 
this  the  price  of  lights  necessary,  which  alone  may  be  set 
down  at  four  or  five  pounds!  the  whole  charge  is  not  very 
unreasonable  at  about  fifteen  pounds ! 

The  charge  for  "lights"  may  seem  excessive,  but  re- 
member that  it  is,  as  it  should  be,  for  «  wax-lights  I-iUu- 
mination  fit  for  men  and  gods  alike."  Some  years  ago, 
when  the  conflict  raged  as  to  the  mode  of  lighting  the 
Houses  of  Parliament,  though  reason  might  demand  a 
vote  for  the  "  philosopher's  light,"  I  must  own  my  feel- 
ings all  ranged  themselves  on  the  side  of  stout  old  Sir 
Frederick  Trench,  when  he  hoisted  the  flag  of  the  "  wax 


"  AD  STATTJAS"— THE  VATICAN  BY  TOECHLIGHT.      149 

candle"  as  the  "light  for  gentlemen"— if  for  gentlemen, 
a  fortiori,  much  more  for  GentHe  gods  and  emperors,  who 
had  reigned  and  flourished  before  "Bude  light,"  "gas," 
or  other  "  new  light"  was  invented.     I  found  this  feeling 
come  strongly  over  me  as  I  saw  whole  hecatombs  of  wax 
candles  binding  in  bundles  to  fasten  into  the  huge  re- 
flecting lanterns,  so  contrived  as  to  throw  the  light  full  on 
the  statues,  and  from  the  spectators ;  I  then  felt  to  the 
full  that  any  other  kind  of  illumination  would  have  been 
an  unsuited  intrusive  accompaniment  in  our  visit  to  the 
white  purity  of  ancient  sculpture ;  the  reek  of  oil-smoke, 
or  the  droppings  of  an  ill-held  oil-lamp,  would  have  been 
an  abomination  in  these  classic  halls.     The  glare  of  gas 
(could  we  have  commanded  it)  would  have  flared  flaunt- 
ingly  and  impertinently  on  the  grave  majesty  of  the 
andents  ranged  before  us,  whereas  our  shaded  wax-lights 
gave  exactly  the  kind  and  degree  of  illumination  which 
became  the  scene— clear,  cleanly,  fragrant,  and  not  over- 
powering;  even  though  a  wax-dropping  should  profane 
the  Parian  smoothness  of  "  the  Apollo,"  it  would  yield  as 
easily  "  ad  un^uem''  now,  as  when  of  old  the  sculptor's 
nail  proved  the  perfection  of  his  work,  and  now,  as  then, 
leave  no  unworthy  stain ;  so  that,  in  every  point  of  view, 
with  "the  stout  old  Tory"  I  cry,  "the  wax-light  for 

gentlemen  for  ever!" 

Our  "rendezvous"  was  fixed  for  half-past  nine  o'clock, 
and  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peter's,  silvered  in  one  corner  by  the 
pale  moonlight,  whHe  the  rest  of  the  vast  area  lay  in  deep 
shadow,  was  in  itself  a  "thing  of  beauty"  worth  a  visit 
at  such  an  hour.     We  had  arrived  some  time  before  the 


150  GLEAJSrrCfGS  attee  "  geaj^d  totje"-ists. 


others,  and  as  eacli  successive  carriage  drove  up  to  tHe 
Vatican  porch,  the  roll  of  the  wheels  and  horses'  hoofs, 
startling  the  echoes  of  the  deserted  passages,  was  striking 
in  the  extreme,  while  the  Pope's  Swiss  Guard,  standing  to 
their  arms  to  receive  the  visitors  and  inspect  the  voucher 
of  admission,  was  an  exhibition  in  itself.   When  the  party 
had  all  assembled,  a  slight  delay  occurred,  as  the  officer  in 
command  told  off  a  certain  number  of  his  men  to  attend 
us ;  and  while  this  was  being  done  I  sauntered  forward  to 
a  point  of  view  which,  often  as  I  had  stood,  and  "  turned 
and  turned  again"  to  admire,  never  palled  upon  my  sense 
of  the  beautiful— I  mean  the  long  perspective  from  the 
first  landing  of  the  "Scala  Eegia"  towards  the  Vatican 
entrance.     I  can  recal  nothing  so  entirely  satisfying  my 
idea  of  the  stately  in  architecture,  and  the  proportionate 
in  perspective,  as  this  unrivalled  staircase.     The  Scala  di 
Giganti  at  Venice  is,  in  its  measure,  fine,  and  in  historic 
associations  interesting,  but  it  wants  the  elegance  and 
vista-like  lengthening  which  constitute  the  secret  of  the 
effect  of  the  "  Scak  Eegia"  of  the  Vatican;  and  when  I 
reached  the  first  landing,  the  downward  perspective  to  the 
entrance  seemed  "immeasurably  spread"  into  a  gloom, 
terminated  by  the  pale  gleamy  light  of  the  moon  as  in  a 
background,  across  which  the  guards  and  others  in  the 
porch  flitted  with  twinkling  lanterns  in  their  hands  like 
shadows ;  while  the  position  in  which  I  stood  was  still  and 
sombre  as  the  entrance  of  a  marble  tomb.    It  was  just  one 
of  those  situations  and  moments  to  make  an  uneffaceable 
impression.     I  find,  daily,  scenes  and  incidents  of  travel 
gradually  rubbing  out  of  the  tablet  of  memory ;  but  this,  I 


"ad  STATUAa"— the  VATICAN  BY  TOBCHLlGnT.      ISL 

think,  is  one  which  will  hold  its  ground  until  the  tablet 
wears  out  beneath  it. 

All  was  in  order  at  last,  and  I  rather  felt,  than  saw, 
that  the  main  body  of  the  party  was  moving  up  towards  me 
—I  heard  a  hum  of  subdued  voices,  and  saw  mere  sparks 
of  light  gleaming  phosphorescently  in  the  distance— but 
all  approached  with  a  processional  gravity  becoming  the 
place.     I  do  not  know  if  "  silence"  be  one  of  the  regu- 
lated  conditions  of  a  night-visit  to  the  Vatican ;  but  it 
seems  as  if  such  order  would  have  beeij  superfluous  ;  for 
I  doubt  much  if  the  noisiest  chatterer,  or  most  giggHng 
miss  in  Eome  would  have  been  disposed  to  insult  the 
majesty  of  the  reigning  silence  by  a  smartness  or  a  laugh. 
We  moved  on  through  "  Loggia"  and  "  Galleria,"  famiHar 
enough  by  day,  but  now  showing  strange  and  ghostly  in 
the  dubious  and  shifting  glimmer  of  our  lanterns.    At  the 
entrance  of  the  Lapidarian  Gallery  we  found  the  cmtodi 
of  the  Museum  reaxiy  to  attend  us ;  we  traversed  this 
fitting  avenue  to  the  halls  beyond,  having  its  extent  of 
wall  covered,  on  the  one  hand,,  with  the  clear  cut,  classical, 
and  cheerless  epitaphs  of  the  heathen  dead,  weU  con- 
fronted  on  the  other  by  the  primitive  Christian's  Ian- 
guage  of  faith  and  hope  in  hk  death,  carved  in  the  rude 
gravings  of  men  too  earnest  to  be  finical.    At  the  further 
end  of  this  street  of  tombs,  the  portals  of  the  halls  of 
statuary  unclose,  and  here  the  preparations  for  our  illumi- 
nation were  completed  by  binding  whole  sheaves  of  long 
wax  candles  in  bundles  of  about  a  dozen  each.    These 
bundles  were  placed  in  open  kntems,  on  long  poles, 
having  a  dark  side  to  interpose  between  the  light  and  us. 


152  GLEANITTGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  TOirB"-ISTS. 

These  the  attendants  bore  in  front,  as  the  lictors  may  have 
been  supposed  to  have  heralded  the  Eoman  magistrates  of 

old,  and  we  moved  on,  marshalled  by  Mr.  M ,*  the 

sculptor,  who  directed  the  whole.  This  gentleman,  at 
inter\^als,  called  a  halt,  directed  the  light-bearers  how  to 
place  themselves  near  particular  statues  and  at  different 
points  of  view,  so  as  to  give  us,  arranged  at  a  distance, 
the  best  effects  of  light,  shade,  and  drapery.  During 
these  pauses  we  were  favoured  with  certain  passages  of 
profound  sculptHa  lore,  which  would  probably  have  edified 
us  more  if  they  had  not  been  delivered  with  rather  too 
much  of  the  mannerism  of  a  pedant  and  the  monotony  of 

a  showman. 

But  no  amount  of  pedantry  or  formality  could  destroy 
the  wondrous  effect  of  the  Vatican  statues,  contemplated 
at  leisure  without  the  interruption  of  crowds,  and  with 
light  and  shade  so  arranged  as  to  impart  to  solid  stone 
drapery  an  almost  ethereal  transparency,  and  giving  to 
the  noble  Grecian  or  Eoman  profiles  around  the  ex- 
pression of  all  but  breathing  Hfe  !  Few  Vatican  visitors 
will  have  forgotten  a  bust  of  the  "young  Augustus,"  a 
wonderful  conception  of  refined  beauty  in  that  transient 
stage  between  the  boy  and  the  man — 

"  Ere  sorrow  yet  has  dimm'd  the  eye, 
Or  time  has  taught  to  sow  in  tears." 

This  beautiful  bust  seldom  lacked  a  gazer  or  group  of 

♦  There  are  two  gentlemen  of  this  name  in  Rome.  I  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  one  of  them  in  his  studio ;  and  a  chief  inducement  to 
join  the  party  had  been  the  hope  of  being  gratified  by  his  clear  and  m- 
telligent  expositions  of  the  rules  of  his  art,  and  the  beauties  of  the  Va- 
tican statuary ;  but— it  was  the  other  Mr.  M we  had ! 


"  AD  BTATUAS"— THE  TATICAIT  BY  TOECHLIGHT.      153 

gazers,  endeavouring  to  read  in  the  youthful  expression  of 
the  lord  of  the  "Augustan  Age"  those  elements  of  cha- 
racter traceable  in  the  more  developed  features  of  his 
statue  at  Tlorence,  and  which  marked  and  stained  the 
after-career  of  him  who,  as  the  price  of  empire,  delivered 
up  Cicero  to  the  slaughter,  and,  both  by  his  patronage 
and   example,   gave  to  his  times  that  tinge  of  refined 
sensuality  which  marks,   as  with  a  date,  the  incipient 
decline  of  the  sterner  virtues  of  old  Eome.     Looked  at  in 
the  daylight,  one  might  imagine  that  something  false  and 
dissolute  could  be  traced  in  the  lineaments  of  the  impas- 
sive marble ;  but,  with  the  warm  glow  of  torchlight  on  the 
features,  giving  a  blush  of  life  and  youthful  modesty  to 
the  rounded  cheeks  and  exquisitely-chiselled  profile,  it 
seemed  almost  impossible  to  connect  deceit  or  vice  with  a 
countenance  which  might  well  have  been  the  original  for 
the  line 

"  Ingenui  puer  vultus— ingenmque  pudoris." 

We  looked  for  a  fine  effect  from  the  lighting-up  of  the 
colossal  and  allegoric  statue  of  the  NHe,  but  were  disap- 
pointed.  The  massive  body  and  recumbent  attitude  of  the 
principal  figure,  and  the  confused  shadows  thrown  by  the 
smaller,  made  the  whole,  as  it  were,  a  great  blotch  in  the 
midst  of  a  galaxy  of  light ;  and  with  one  consent  we  turned 
from  this  monster  allegory  to  feast  our  eyes  upon  three 
figures  in  the  same  haU,  which  may  probably  be  called  the 
masterpieces  of  draped  statuary,  and  which  stood  near  and 
perfect  in  their  several  types  of  execution.  These  were 
a  "Juno"  (a  true  "  Eegina  Divum  ") ;  the  "Minerva,'^ 
called  the  "Minerva  Medica"-a  model  of  draped  ma- 


154i 


i> 


GLEASHJTGS  APTER  "  GEAJ^D  TOTIE   -ISTS 


jesty ;  while  not  far  off  stood  tlie  "  Mother  of  Germa- 
nicus,"  graceful  in  the  robes  of  a  Eoman  matron,  and  con- 
testing with  the  Divinities  the  palm  of  excellence.  The 
lights  were  so  disposed  as  to  give  the  draperies  of  these 
magnificent  statues  the  effect  of  transparencies,  and  almost 
to  delude  the  beholder  into  a  belief  that  the  robes,  which 
fell  in  graceful  folds  about  their  persons,  might  have  been 
held  up,  examined  as  to  their  texture,  or  rearranged  by  the 
hand  of  a  tirewoman ! 

With  a  remark,  en  passant ^  that  the  effect  of  basso- 
relievo  sculpture  is  wonderfully  Irouglt  out  by  the  judi- 
cious placing  of  torchlight,  let  us  hasten  our  party  to  the 
Belvedere  Cabinets,  in  the  common  anxiety  to  examine 
how,  in  the  Laocoon  group, 

"  A  father's  love,  and  mortal's  agony, 
With  an  immortal  patience  blending," 

would  show  by  torchlight ;  and  also  to  prove  whether  the 
day-god's  power  to  "enchant  the  world"  would  survive 
the  set  of  his  own  luminary,  and  prevail  into  "  the  witch- 
ing hours  of  night." 

When  first  I  paid  my  "  devoirs  "  to  these  chefs-d'oeuvre 
of  sculpture  in  their  retired  and  peculiar  closets,  I  was 
disposed  to  murmur  at  the  judgment  which  withdrew  them 
from  the  general  exhibition,  and  from  asserting  their  su- 
periority in  immediate  comparison  with  and  against  all 
competitors.  Eeflection  and  experience,  however,  have 
corrected  this  first  opinion,  aad  I  now  fully  subscribe  to 
the  fitness  of  the  arrangement,  which  affords  what  may 
be  called  the  "  private  entree  "  to  each  admirer,  and  allows 
him  to  give  his  individual  attention  to  the  models  of  ex- 


"  AD  STATTJAS"— THE  TATICAS  BY  TQECHLIGHT.      155 

cellence  before  him.     I  can  now,  too,  better  appreciate 
that  genuine  modesty  in  which  the  great  modern  sculptor 
complained  of  having  his  "  Boxers  "  retained  in  too  close 
proximity  to  the  shrine,  where,  during  the  enforced  ab- 
sence of  the  presiding  divinity,  they  had  not  unbecommgly 
stood  as  "  loca  tenentesr     As  specimens  of  modem  sculp- 
ture, and  of  their  own  type  of  art,  the  "  Creugas  and  Da- 
moxenes"  of  Canova  are  far  above  standard  exceUence, 
and  may,  without  question,  take  a  first  rank.     But  when 
"The  Apollo"  resumed  his  pedestal,  it  was  but  scant 
iustice  and  an  ambiguous  compliment  to  hold  his  substi- 
tutes to  the  test  of  a  constant  comparison  between  then: 
plebeian  attitudes  and  the  "beautiful  disdain"  of  his 
commanding  aspect-between  their  coarse,  muscular  de- 
velopment  of  thews  and  sinews,  and  that  magnificent  M 
of  strength  and  beauty  so  weU  described  by  one  of  his 
laureates  as 

"  Too  fair  to  worship,  too  divine  to  love." 

The  ApoUo  SUM  stand  alone,  aHke  witt  reference  to 
allowing  the  beholder  to  enjoy  with  undivided  attention, 
and  to  the  unfeirnesB  to  any  known  statue,  ancient  or 
modem,  of  being  placed  in  invidious  comparison,  unless, 
indeed,  we  are  to  except  his  female  counterpart,  the  pre- 
Biding  goddess  of  the  Florentine  tribime-"  the  Venus ! 

The  torch-bearers  were  so  placed  behind  the  Apollo  and 
Laocoon  as  to  be  quite  hid  from  the  spectators;  we  saw 
but  the  rich  glow  from  their  lights  thrown  upwards  and 
through  the  marble.  I  bave  occasionaEy  read,  but  cannot 
profess  to  have  understood,  dissertations  upon  the  dot- 
ferent  quaHties  of  the  ancient  marbles  of  statuary,  the 


156 


>> 


GLEAlflNGS  AFTEK  "  GBAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


«  Pentelic"  and  "Parian,"  the  "  Greek  and  Italian."     I 
am  unable  to  enter  into  their  qualities,  but  it  is  certain 
that  there  are  differences  observable  even  by  an  unin- 
structed  eye ;    for  while   one  kind   of  marble  presents, 
on  its  surface,  a  gritty  and  crystalline  structure,  another 
offers  to   sight,   as  well  as  touch,   a  compact  flesh-like 
density,  giving  the  appearance,  as  well  as  reality,  of  the 
highest  finish ;  and  yet  it  was  this  most  seemingly  dense 
marble  which  proved  the  most  permeable  by  ^the  strong 
torchlight  held  behind  it,  and  allowed  the  imagination  to 
realise  most  the  idea  of  an  etherealised  body,  luminous 
and  glowing,  in  a  light  never  vouchsafed  to  the  eye  of 
common  visitors,  and  which  better  enables  the  beholder  to 
take  in  the  conception  said  to  be  embodied  in  the  statue  of 
Apollo  as  the  "  Python  Slayer,"  when 

"  Burns  his  indignant  cheek  with  vengeful  fire, 
And  his  lip  quivers  with  insulting  (?)  ire. 
Firm  fixed  his  tread,  yet  light,  as  when  on  high 
He  walks  th'  impalpable  and  pathless  sky." 

I  have  borrowed  these  lines  from  Milman's  prize  poem 
on  the  Apollo,  and  doing  so,  venture  to  question  the 
fitness  of  one,  and  hut  one,  of  the  epithets  in  these 
polished  couplets ;  "  insulting"  is  scarce  the  term  for  the 
expression  of  the  "  heav'nly  archer's"  face;  the  con- 
sciousness of  achieved  conquest,  and  the  ease  of  nerved 
and  resistless  power,  are  the  prevailing  characters  of  the 
countenance,  while  the  term  insulting  seems  low,  and  of 
the  earth  earthy— scarce  worthy  of  the  subject,  or  suited 
to  the  otherwise  well-selected  epithets  of  this  short  first- 
fruits  of  Mr.  Milman's  poetic  taste  and  feeling. 

To  dwell  upon  the  other  busts  and  statues  to  which  our 


"  AD  BTATUAS"— THE  VATICAK  BT  TOECHLIGHT.   157 

attention  was  in  turn  directed,  would  be  tedious.    We 
grew  somewhat  weary  at  last  of  studying  the  minutiae  of 
light  and  shade,  and  there  was  relief  and  great  enjoyment 
in  Imgering  behind  the  torch-bearers  and  viewing  the 
grander  effects  of  Hght  thrown  into  the  obscurity  of  these 
vast  halls,  and  catching  transient  gleams  reflected  back 
from  the  endless  and  solemn  array  of  dignity,  beauty, 
inteUect,  and  majesty  through  which   we  passed  along. 
The  wonder  of  these  larger  scenes  of  illumination  is  not 
least  impressive  in  pas^g  through  the  Hall  of  Animals, 
where,  in  every  variety  of  posture  and  expression,  "  ram- 
pant," salient,  "passant,"  "couchant,"  the  monsters  of 
the  forests  rage,  roar,  crouch,  or  couch  around  you ;  but 
the  crowning  effect  of  the  exhibition  is  when  the  lights  are 
so  disposed  as  to  enable  us  to  take  our  stand  on  the  stair- 
case leading  to  what  is  called  the  "  Hall  of  the  Car,"  and 
look  into  the  downward  perspective  of  the  halls  below, 
until    the  illumination   shaded  off  into  most  profound 
gloom.     Here  was,  indeed,  a  wondrous  effect,  presenting 
an  unmatched  combination  of  statuary  and  architecture, 
while  in  the  foreground,  in  strong  relief,  stood  out  one  of 
the  huge  porphyry  "  sarcophagi,"  supposed  once  to  have 
held  the  ashes  of  an  empress,  and  now  furnishing  a  "  stage 
property"  for  an  exhibition  to  a  motley  group  of  stranger 
tourists ;  the  contrasts  and  sense  of  contrast  forced  upon 
one  at  every  step  we  tread  in  Old  Eome  are  endless  and 
overwhelming.* 

Night  wanes,  and  our  wax-lights  wax  low,  and  it  is  time 
to  retrace  our  steps  through  the  long  avenues  of  these 
stem,  stony  ancients :  there  is  a  relief  in  the  feeHng  that 

*  See  Appendix. 


"J  / 


158  0=LEANIKGS  AFTEE  "  GEAIfD  TOTO   -18TS. 

we  have  accompUshed  tlie  expedition,  and  yet  a  desire 
occasionally  to  linger  a  while  by  some  statue  not  enough 
studied  in  our  onward  route ;  but  no !  the  rule  is  "  ab- 
solute''—no  pause  on  the  return  journey  through  the 
Vatican.    We  pass  the  halls  on  our  return  regularly  and 
rapidly,  but  once  more  I  contrive  to  have  a  look  at  the 
party  descending  the  beautiful  length  of  the  palace-stair- 
case and  hall  beyond,  and  to  descend  it  alone  with  nothing 
to  disturb  the  effect  but  the  echo  of  my  own  footsteps ; 
and  to  make  the  most  of  my  enjoyment,  I  paced  the  haU 
so  slowly,  that  on  emerging  into  the  moonlight  of  the 
piazza  I  was  greeted  with  a  scolding  suggestion  "  that 
I  had  better  keep  watch  on  the  *  Scala  Eegia'  all  night/' 
I  received  the  correction  as  meekly  as  Dickens's  "  Mr. 
Davis,"  who  was  for  ever  losing  himself  in  the  tombs  and 
deserted  passages  of  "  Old  Eome." 


i 


9 


A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQTJIN,  IN  1851.         159 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQUIN,  IN  1851. 

"  A  BLOT,  no  blot  untn  hit,"  is  a  truism  which  extends 
beyond  the  backgammon  table ;  many  a  man  undergoes 
and  escapes  dangers,  upon  which,  when  he  looks  back,  it 
must  be  with  wonder  at  the  temerity  and  childish  daring 
which  led  him  into  them.  Had  I  read  that  chapter  of 
"  Whiteside's  Italy,"  entitled  "  A  Night  Walk  in  Eome," 
hefore  instead  of  after  my  visit  to  the  "Eternal  City,"  I 
more  than  doubt  that  I  would  ever  have  paid  my  respects 
to  Anthony  Pasquin,  except  in  broad  daylight. 

Another  Httle  incident  gives  a  startling  interest  to  the 
escapade  of  a  man  who,  having  seen  fifty  winters,  cannot 
plead  youthful  blood  in  excuse  for  an  act  of  rashness.  Our 
lodgings  were  in  the  Via  di'  Condotti,  at  the  corner  of  the 
street"  Mario  di'  Piori"— a  house  cheerful  enough  in  the 
daytime,  but  with  one  of  those  awful  outer  haUs  from  a 
nook  of  which  an  assassin  might  any  evening  start  forth 
upon  his  victim  in  the  twilight  with  a  desperate  advantage. 
The  ^ian-ierreno,  or  ground-floor,  of  the  opposite  house 
was  occupied  by  a  baker,  "  Boulanger  Ancien,"  as  his 
door-sign  styled  him ;  and  how  weU  I  remember  his  clean 


if 
1-  I 


160 


»» 


GLEANINGS  APTEE  "  GEAKD  TOUE    -ISTS 


white  apron  and  "  mealy  face,"  as  he  used  to  lounge  in  the 
sun  at  his  door  with  that  '' far  niente''  air  which  is  cha- 
racteristic of  the  Roman  shopkeeper ;  bj  association  of 
ideas,  he  always  recalled  to  me  the  stanza  of  Tennyson's 
"Miller's  Daughter:'* 

»'  I  see  the  wealthy  miller  yet, 

His  double  chin,  his  portly  size  ; 
And  who  that  knew  him  could  forget 

The  busy  wrinkles  round  his  eyes  ? 
The  slow  wise  smile  that  round  about 

His  dusty  forehead  drily  curled, 
Seemed  half  within,  and  half  without. 

And  full  of  dealings  with  the  world." 

Who  would  think  that  this  picture  of  "  one  so  jolly  and 
so  good"  would,  now  and  evermore,  stand  connected  in  my 
memory  with  violence  and  blood  ?     Yet  so  it  is.     Wo  left 
Eome  early  in  May,  just  as  theEomans  were  beginning  to 
liint  their  impatience  of  "foreign  occupation"  and  T'rencli 
fraternite  by  using  their  daggers  against  obnoxious  indi- 
viduals, and  by  night-encounters  with  patrols ;  some  liveB 
had  already  been  lost  before  our  departure,  and  it  was,  I 
think,  at  Milan  that  I  first  read  a  newspaper  giving,  among 
the  "  Eoman  news,"  the  following  startling  incident  as  de- 
tailed in  the  journals  of  the  day : 

"  A  few  evenings  since,  just  as  twilight  was  falling,  an  individual, 
with  a  loud  cry,  staggered  wildly  from  the  Via  Mario  di'  Fiori,  across 
the  Condotti,  into  the  '  Boulanger  Ancien,'  and  calling  in  frantic  tones 
for  a  priest,  sank  on  the  floor  of  the  botega,  weltering  in  his  blood;  it 
chanced  that  a  Franciscan  was  passing  at  the  moment,  who  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd  which  immediately  collected,  and  was  soon  at  the  side 
of  the  dying  man,  busied  in  offering  him  the  last  offices  of  religion,  for 
which  there  was  but  scant  time,  for  the  suflFerer  breathed  his  last  while 
attemptmg  to  pour  his  confession  into  the  venerable  man's  ear.  Rumours 
of  all  kinds  as  to  the  cause  of  his  death  were  quickly  spread,  but  the 


A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQUIN,  IN  1851.         161 

crowd  was  dispersed,  without  obtainmg  any  certainty  on  the  subject,  by 
the  approach  of  a  French  patrol  from  the  Piazza  di  Spagna.  Some 
whispered  that  the  dead  man  had  fallen  a  victim  to  political  enmity ; 
others,  that  he  had  been  a  citizen  passing  accidentally,  and  assassinated 
in  mistake  for  some  obnoxious  individual ;  but  a  third  and  more  probable 
rumour  hinted  that  he  was  a  young  noble  famous  for  his  gallantries,  and 
that  he  had  met  his  fate  in  prosecuting  or  attempting  some  mtrigue.  The 
French  patrol  took  possession  of  the  shop,  which  they  closed,  and  a  secret 
investigation  was  carried  on  within,  the  result  of  which  had  not  transpired ; 
so  that  all  is  at  present  wrapped  in  mystery,  and  adds  to  the  general 
alarm  and  disquiet  pervading  the  city." 

The  poor  baker!  when  I  think  of  his  clean,  well-ap- 
pointed shop,  usually  "  made  misty  with  the  floating  meal," 
now  dabbled  with  blood,  and  disturbed  by  a  murderer's 
victim  gasping  out  life  on  the  floor,— then  the  crowd,— and 
the  passing  monk  bending  over  the  dying  man,— and  the 
crucifix,— all  these  form  a  vision  mingling  strangely  with 
my  reminiscdiices  of  Eome ;  and  it  becomes  doubly  in- 
teresting in  the  thought,  that  had  I  lingered  there  a  few 
days  longer,  I  should  probably  have  been  looking  down 
from  my  window  on  the  scene  as  it  actually  occurred. 

But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Anthony  Pasquin  ?   Much, 
gentle  reader ;  because  it  enhances,  on  recollection,  the 
sense  of  unsuspected  dangers  through  which  I  achieved 
my  nocturnal  prank.     Eoman  streets  cannot  be  said  to  be 
ladly  lighted,  simply  because  they  are  not  lighted  at  all ; 
pass  from  the  "  Corso"  or  the  "  Via  Babuino,'*  or  one  or 
two  other  streets,  "  where  the  Inglese  most  do  congregate," 
and  you  are  at  once  and  completely  in  cimmerian  dark- 
ness.   A  Monsignore  gravely  assured  me  that  they  had 
made  an  experiment  in  gas,  but  that  the  Eoman  ladies 
complained  of  it  as  prejudicial  to  health  !  and  the  ruling 
powers  were  only  too  ready  to  return  to  that  "  grateful 


162  OLEASINGS  APIEE  "  GEAND  T0TO"-ISTS. 

Shade,"  so  esBential  to  the  double  pursuitB  of  love  and 
l^ier;  and  although  Mr.  Whiteside  does  speak  of  the 
respectful  terror  with  which  the  Eomans  '^^S^-^,,";^" 
gUsLan  "keepiug  the  crown  of  the  causeway     amed 
^th  his  national  weapou-a  stout  oak-stick    stUl,  had  I 
bethought  myself  how  easily  an  assassin  n>ight  have  sprun 
upon  me  from  any  of  the  many  dark  comers_oh    S«^ 
i  /-which  I  passed  to  achieve  my     pasquinade,    as- 
*  edly  I  sho^ild  never  have  ventured  forth  upon  the 
Chan  J  of  parrying  a  stiletto  with  a  shillelagh ;  hence 
should  never  have  had  a  nocturnal  -^^ -^t;;^^ 
tirical  tailor  of  the  Piazza  Navona,  nor  would  this     true 
tale"  ever  have  been  written.     So  that  you  perceive 
gentle  reader,  that  the  episode  of  the  baker  has  somewhat 

to  do  with  Anthony  Pasquin.  ,     .  ,,„  Mo.t^ 

We  were  driving  slowly  up  the  ascent  of  the  Monte 

Mario  to  one  of  the  finest  points  of  view  in  or  about 

Eome,whonA said  to  me, 

«  Ton  are  not  admiring-you  are  not  looking 
«  Tes  "  I  replied,  "  I  am  looking-for  a  rhyme,  and  can- 
not flnd'it.  I  want  to  finish  an  Italian  couplet "!  At  this 
bravade,  from  a  man  who  could  scarcely  ask  his  way  m 
Italian,  and  could  as  soon  read  an  Ogham  inscnp^on  as  a 
stanza  of  Axiosto,  my  lady  friends  all  burst  into  loud  and 
Tost  disrespectful  laughter.     I  looked  half  affronted  and 
half  entreating,  as  I  said,  "  You  should  help  me,  and  no^ 
lau.h  at  me.  I  must  have  this  couplet  completed  m  order 
to  an  adventure  I  mean  to  achieve  this  very  night. 

In  whatever  other  qualities  the  ladies,  bless  then:  httle 
hearts!  may  be  deficient,  they  are  seldom  found  wanting 
in  curiosity  At  the  word  "  adventure,"  they  -re  -stant^ 
all  attention,  interest,  and  willingness  to  assist;  so  that 


A  NIGHT  WITn  AKTHONT  PASQUIN,  IN  1851.         163 

with  tlieir  contributions  of  appropriate  words,  my  epigram 
was  speedily  fashioned  into  the  doggerel  I  desired.  But 
what  was  the  composition  ?  Simply  a  fcAV  lines  I  wanted  to 
affix  to  Pasquin's  statue.  I  had  already  the  sense,  or  non- 
sense, I  wanted,  in  good  Latin  and  tolerable  English 
verse ;  but  as  I  wished  to  give  the  Italians  the  benefit  of 
John  Bull's  opinion  of  some  late  doings  of  their  "liege 
lord,  the  Pope,"  in  their  vernacular  tongue,  I  determined, 
however  rudely,  to  hammer  out  a  version  in  Italian,  in 
order  to  complete  a  tri(jiIot  on  the  following  subject. 

It  need  scarce  be  told,  that  when  we  left  England  in  the 
early  spring  of  1851,  to  seek  health  and  warm  weather 
in  the  sunny  South,  the  whole  country  was  in  its 
fiercest  paroxysm  of  anger  and  alarm  at  the  Papal  de- 
monstration ^f  an  intention  to  take  England  once  again 
under  the  formal  rule  and  government  of  "  his  Holiness," 
or,  in  Cardinal  Wiseman's  inflated  language,  to  restore  a 
"  Straying  Planet  to  its  place  in  the  Papal  firmament." 
"  The  Papal  aggression  fever "  was  at  its  height,  and 
among  the  symptoms  not  least  remarkable  was  this,  that 
publications  whose  aim  and  object  lay  far  apart  from  poli- 
tical or  theological  discussion  were  seen  occupied  with  the 
engrossing  topic  of  the  day.  Among  others,  that  most 
amusing  miscellany,  "Notes  and  Queries,"  gave,  in  its 
number  for  December,  1850,  among  its  various  odds  and 
ends  of  philology,  chronology,  folk-lore,  and  etymology, 
the  following  epigram : 

"  Cum  Sapiente,  Pius  nostras  juravit  in  aras ; 
Impius  heu  Sapiens,  desipiensque  Pius." 

The  following  rather  heavi/  rendering  of  the  above  was 

added : 

m2 


164      GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  T0TIB"-ISTS. 

"  The  -Wiseman  and  the  Pious  have  laid  us  underban ; 
Oh,  Pious  man,  unwise— oh,  impious  Wiseman. 

The  original  couplet  took  my  fancy  amazingly,  and  as  I 
had  then  my  journey  to  Kome  in  contemplation,  I  made  a 
kind  of  TOW  or  engagement  with  myself,  that  if  I  ever  saw 
the  "  seven  hill'd  city,"  I  would  affix  it  to  the  great  afficU 
Of  stray  wit-Pasqnin's  statue.  I  thought  the  English  ver- 
sion  might  be  better;  and,  finaUy,  that  an  Itahan  one  it 
it  could  be  accomplished,  would  bring  the  pomt  of  the 
epigram  more  home  to  the  natives  ;  hence  the  bram-cud- 
eelling  process  on  Monte  Mario,  which  resulted  m  my 
producing  the  following  in  the  form  in  which  it  finally  saw 
the  light  in  Eome : 

"  Cum  Sapiente,  Pius  nostras  juravit  in  aras, 
Impius  heu  Sapiens,  desipiensque  Pius." 

"  When  a  league  'gainst  our  faith  Pope  with  Cardinal  tries, 
Neither  WisQimn  is  pious,  nor  Tins  i3  wise. 

«^Quando  Papa  o  cardinale, 
Chies'  Inglese  trata  male, 
Qual  che  chiamo  quella  gente  ? 
Pio  ?  no,  no— ni  Sapiente.'* 

The  point  of  the  Italian  is  derived  from  a  half-defaced  in- 
scription,  which,  in  spite  of  police  erasure,  can  even  yet  he 
deciphered  at  Eovigo,  in  the  Lomhardo-Venetian  States 
where  the  Pope's  title  and  famHy  name  are,  by  means  of 
punctuation,  turned  into  a  sly  satire  upon  his  unchanged 
and  not  admired  character : 

"  Pio?  no,  no — ma  stai  Feretti." 
Picrn*?— not  at  all,  but  still  FerettL 

Great  was  the  laughter  of  my  female  critics  at  the 
violation  of  concords  and  disregard  of  idiom  in  my  Italian. 


A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQUIN,  IN  1851.         165 

They  told  me,  over  and  over,  that  the  keen-witted  natives 
would  make  sport  of  my  grammatical  blunders ;  but  I  was 
bent  on  playing  out  my  play,  and  as  I  could  do  no  better, 
I  insisted  that  "  it  would  do  very  weU."  And  when  one 
young  lady,  who  had  given  me  considerable  help  in  putting 
it  together,  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  alarmed,  on  being  told 
that  I  meant  to  afEx  it  to  Pasquin's  statue  that  night,  I 
assured  her,  that  if  the  Pope's  police  should  catch  me  in 
the  fact,  I  would  assuredly  name  her  as  my  accompHce  in 
murdering  "  la  lingua  Toscana.'' 

I  could  make  my  way  through  Eome  tolerably  weU  in 
broad  daylight;  we  had  akeady  driven  several  times  to 
the  Piazza  Navona,  a  favourite  resort  of  ladies  curious  in 
those  showy  silk  scarfs-the  solitary  manufacture  of  Eome 
in  the  way  of  textile  fabrics ;  but  I  knew  it  was  quite  a 
different  affair  to  make  my  way  thither  in  the  dark.     No 
fear  of  the  stiletto  ever  crossed  my  thoughts,  but  I  did 
dread  somewhat  the  losing  my  way,  as  soon  as  I  had  left 
the  beaten  track  for  the  defiles  of  the  by-streets  of  Eome ; 
however,  I  took  my  bearings  and  observations  as  well  as  I 
could,  while  we  drove  about  in  the  daylight.    My  last 
landi^ark  was  the  great  Palazzo  Borghese,  and  turning 
down  to  the  left  hand  from  that,  I  was  to  go  forth  with 
"  Providence  my  guide ;"  but  whether  in  the  whole  affair 
I  was  tempting  or  trusting  Providence?!  truly  this  is  a 
question  which,  on  reflection,  I  do  not  much  care  to  look  in 

the  face.  . 

There  were  sundry  jokes  among  the  young  people  when 
I  made  known  my  intention  at  the  dinner-table  ;  they  one 
and  aU  declared  that  they  expected  to  hear  of  me  from  the 
Castle  of  St.  Angelo  next  morning,  and  amused  themselves 


166 


n 


GLEANINGS  iiPTEE  "  GRAND  TOUB   -ISTS. 


by  speculating  which  of  our  Koman  friends  should  be  ap- 
pHed  to  to  "  bail  me  out."  One  young  lady,  more  "  learned 
in  the  law  "  than  the  rest,  gravely  asked  me,  "  What  kind 
of  Habeas  Corpus  Act  they  had  at  Eome  ?"  to  whom  I  as 
gravely  replied,  that  "  The  Roman  Habeas  Corpus  had  no 
force  save  in  the  Eoman  province  of  Limbo  ;  at  least,  that 
I  never  heard  that  they  pretended  to  liberate  the  oppressed 
from  any  other  part  of  the  Papal  territories."  The  evening 
wore  on,  the  short  twilight  of  the  South  deepened  into 
darkness,  and  by  nine  o'clock  all  was  quiet  as  the  grave. 
I  sallied  forth  for  my  expedition,  armed  with  my  epigram 
in  legible  print-hand  in  one  pocket,  a  gum-bottle  (!)  in  the 
other,  and  a  stout  stick  in  my  hand. 

Pasquin's  statue  is  generally  said  to  stand  on  the  Piazza 
Navona,  but  this  is  not  quite  correct :  it  stands  at  the 
corner  of  the  Palazzo  Braschi,  in  a  street  leading  into  the 
Piazza,  and  at  a  point  where  several  streets  converge.     It 
is  now— whatever  it  may  have  been— a  mere  clumsy  torso 
—a  block  of  stone,  "  sam  head,  sans  arms,  sans  feet."    Re- 
port says  that  more  than  one  Pope  had  attempted  to  re- 
move this  foundling  hospital  for  stray  and  often  stinging 
satires,  but  that   the  o^^-ne^  of  the  adjacent  palace  has 
always  claimed  property  in  the  fragment,  and  refused  to 
allow  it  to  be  taken  away.    It  is  said  that  the  Pontiffs  ac- 
knowledged the  rights  of  property,  but  that,  acting  on  the 
celebrated  maxim  of- "property  has  its  duties  as  well 
as  rights,"  the   princely  owner  was  informed  that  he 
should  stand  responsible  for  every  waggery  or  witticism 
fathered  upon  his  statue.   Prom  the  date  of  this  "  respon- 
sibility,"  the  wit  of  Pasquin  is  said  to  have  waned  and 
faded  considerably.   I  was  ignorant  of  all  these  particulars 


A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQUIN,  IN  1851.        167 

When  I  determined  to  make  the  Italian  tailor  speak  my 

triglot  epigram  to  the  public*  .  .  ^ 

LaJg^heBorghesePalace  on  the  right,  I  d-d  do^ 

a  long  street  running  parallel  to  the  Corso,  at  the  bottom 

waswo^t  to  give  hJ3  ^■^^2:l^:C,^^l^:^^^.J^ suppressed 
and  expensive  wk,  P«M'^l'f'>^«"*  ,7  entMed  "  PASQckLOBtm  Libei 
wherever  Papal  authority  could  reach  ''-;°*f  ^^^  ^^^  ,,^„e  th«. 

D„o,"  -^^rT^^Z^^sl^^    Pap^  t:Hty,  profligacy, 
are  now  -^-^^S;*  Xf^oTrbeL  placarded  with  a  ft^^^^^^ 
impiety,  seem  in  those  ^''y^^VTl^^iJ.^^M  tarried  so  long  iu  break- 


(( 


ON  ALEXANDER  VI. 

Vendidit  Alexander  claves,  altarla,  Christum— 
Emerat  ille  prius,  venderejure  potest" 

Our  Pope  keys,  masses,  Christ  himself  as  well, 
Has  bartered-surely  he  who  buys  may  seU  I 

ON  LUCRECE  BORGIA. 

«  Hoc  tumulo  dormit  Lucretia  nomine,  sed  re 
Thais—Alexandri  Jilia,  sponsa,  mirus. 


\ 


Here  Ues  one  chaste  in  name,  impure  in  life, 
In  Uw  Pope's  daughter,  but,  in/oc^  his-wife . 

ON  LEO  X. 

u  Sacra  sub  extremd,  si  forte  requiritis  hord  ^ 

Cur  Leo  nonpotuit  sumere  ?-vendiderat. 

Leo  died  hostless.     Do  you  ask  me  why  ? 
Who  sold  the  Host  may  well  unhousell  d  die . 

ON  THE  PHTSICXAN  WHO  WAS  SAID  TO  HAVE  KILLED  POPE  CLEMENT. 

»  Curtius  occidit  Clementem  f^Curtiusauro 
I)omndus,per  quern  pvhlica  parta  salus. 

Did  Curtius  doctor  Clement  ?-so,  'tis  told, 

His  country  saved,  he's  worth  his  weight  m  gold. 


168 


»» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOIJR    -ISTS. 


of  which  I  had  previously  marked  a  church  by  which  I  was 
to  turn,  and  a  few  paces  down  a  dark  lane  brought  me  to 
the  near  comer  of  the  Piazza  Navona.  Pasquin  stood  at 
the  opposite  end  of  the  same  side  of  the  square,  and  I  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  follow  the  line  of  houses  to  arrive  at 
the  scene  of  action ;  this  was  quickly  done.  I  retired 
under  a  dark  archway  nearly  opposite  the  statue,  and 
prepared  my  placard  as  well  as  I  could;  I  am  sure  I 
wasted  my  gum  "  pretty  considerably,"  and  what  between 
haste,  darkness,  and  trepidation,  I  made  but  a  clumsy  bill- 
sticker  after  all. 

At  length  all  was  ready ;  but  though  there  was  scarce 
a  soul  passing,  I  could  not  get  the  streets  perfectly  free 
of  passengers.     There  I  stood,  like  a  spider  in  his  web- 
hole,  ready  to  dart  across  the  way  the  moment  I  could  get 
a  clear  stage ;  but  whenever  I  prepared  to  rush  forth,  I 
was  sure  to  hear  the  echo  of  approaching  footsteps,  and 
was  obliged  to  wait  again  until  they  died  away  in  the 
distance ;  all  this  while  I  had  ample  leisure  to  consider 
the  following  pleasant    questions:    Suppose    a    Trench 
patrol,  or  some  of  the  Koman  police,  should  come  by  and 
perceive  me  in  my  lurking-place,  should  require  me  to 
give  an  account  of  myself,   or  to  explain  my  business 
there,  what  could  I  say  in  such  a  case  ?    What  probable 
or  satisfactory  account  could  I  offer  for  my  silly  under- 
taking which  would  be  intelligible  to  them,  or,  if  intelli- 
gible, would  not  compromise  me  the  more  ?    In  short,  I 
was  becoming  nervous;  I  began  to  think  my  pretended 
apprehensions  might  turn  out  sad  realities,  and  that  it  was 
quite  within  possibilities  that  morning  might  dawn  upon 
me  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo. 


A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQUIN,  IK  1851.         169 

At  length  the  coast  seemed  really  clear,  not  a  sound 
broke  the  silence  of  the  street ;  I  darted  across,  hastHy 
stuck  my  gummed  paper  on  the  side  of  the  statue,  and 
then  took  to  my  heels  as  fast  as  I  could  run. 
"  Conscience  makes  co^vards  of  us  all" — 

yes  and  fools  as  weU  as  cowards.  Had  I  reflected  for  a 
moment,  I  should  have  seen  that  I  was  doing  the  very 
thing  to  make  myself  an  object  of  suspicion  a^d  remark. 
As  it  happened,  I  met  no  patrol ;  but  had  I  done  so,  any 
soldier  or  sbirro  of  the  commonest  intelligence  must  have 
suspected  something  wrong,  in  meeting  an  elderly  gentle- 
man "  fat,  and  scant  of  breath,"  posting  along  at  my  rate 
of  going.  As  itVas,  I  met  no  one ;  but  after  a  minute  or 
two  of  hard  running,  my  breath  failed,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  pull  up,  and  look  about  me. 

Conceive  my  dismay.    I  found  that  I  had  not  the 

remotest  idea  where  I  was;  in  my  headlong  haste  I  had 

run  away  at  the  wrong  dde  of  the  statue,  and  instead  of 

being  in  the  open  piazza,  I  found  myself  in  some  street, 

where  the  taU  houses  nodded  overhead  in  a  homble 

proximity,  threatening  me  with  many  of  Juvenal's  »  mMe 

perioula  s<^<b  urbis;"  nor  did  I  know  the  moment  when 

some  window  gaping  overhead  would  discharge  its  missile 

to  dint  the  pavement,  or  my  head,  as  the  case  might  be; 

and  I  began  to  think  myself  in  a  fair  way  to  furnish  a 

living,  or,  perhaps,  dying  comment  on  a  passage  I  had  been 

reading  some  days  before: 

"  Improvidns  ad  coenam  si 
Intestattts  eas,  adeo  tot  fata  quot  ilia  ^ 

Nocte  patent  vigUes,  te  pretereunte  fenestrs. 


170  GLEAirCNGS  AFTEB  "  GEAIO}  TOUB^-ISTS. 

I  have  already  said  my  Italian  wae  of  a  very  mediocre 
kind,  but  even  though  I  had  had  the  « locca  Romanar  with 
the  ''' lingua  Toscana;'  at  my  tongue-tip,  there  was  not  a 
soul  upon  whom  to  exercise  my  eloquence.    Every  ground- 
floor  around  me  showed  those  grinning  chevaux^e-frise  of 
hard  rusty  iron  bars,  with  which  the  great  houses  of  Eome 
fortify  their  ceUarage.   You  might  as  well  ask  guidance  in 
the  vaults  of  a  church  as  at  the  lowest  tier  of  a  Eoman 
dwelling ;  then,  to  attempt  any  of  the  entrances,  grope 
through  the  halls,  mount  the  dreary  staircases,  and  on 
ringing  out  some  inhabitant,  to  stutter  forth  my  request 
for  guidance  to  the  Corso !— which  was  the  only  point  for 
which  I  could  pretend  to  make— I  feared  to  attempt  any- 
thing of  the  kind,  and  yet  I  saw  no  other  resource. 

Such  were  the  pleasant  thoughts  revolving  in  my  mind 
as  I  slowly  retraced  my  steps  on  the  street  in  which  I  had 
paused.     I  passed  dark  and  barred  entries  more  than  one ; 
a  few  were  either  yet  unclosed  for  the  night,  or  remained 
so  all  night  long ;  and  it  was  from  one  of  these  that  my 
ear,  in  passing,  caught  the  low  but  distinct  Im  with 
which  an  Italian  invites  attention,  and  which  always  un- 
pleasantly reminded  me  of  the  noise  of  a  serpent.  I  paused 
at  the  sound,  for  the  voice  in  the  darkness  sounded  very 
close  at  my  ear,  and  a  stifled  female  voice  caUed  again, 
"  Sist,  Geronymo  /" 

I  stood  still,  but  made  no  reply ;  and  again  the  same 
voice,  subdued,  but  intensely  hurried,  repeated, 
"  Geronymo — stthifo,  subito!^^ 

Not  being  Geronymo,  I  thought  it  best  not  to  acknow- 
ledge the  invitation  in  any  way,  but  to  get  out  of  the  way 
as  quickly  as  I  could.    I  was  the  more  decided  on  this 


A  ITIGHT  WITH  ANTHOITS:  PASQUIN,  IK  1851.         171 

when  I  saw  shine,  down  the  well-like  interior  of  the 
house,  a  faint  light,  and  heard  a  hoarse  voice  muttering 
something,  of  which  the  only  word  intelligible  to  me  was 
''Diavohr  Anger  was  certainly  in  the  tone,  but  what 
description  of  anger-whether  of  angry  father,  jealous 
husbaud,  irate  brother,  or  surly  concierge-it  was  unpos- 
sible  to  distinguish. 

In  honest  old  England's  capital,  in  its  vilest  purlieu,  at 
the  door  of  its  vilest  den,  a  man  might  have  stood  "  over 
the  way"  to  see  the  end,  pretty  sure  that,  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst,  and  that  he  found  liimself  in  a  ^^  row," 
A  46  or  Z  24,  or  some  intermediate  number  of  the  blue- 
coated,  glased-hatted  fraternity,  who,  "  with  little  bits  of 
stick  in  their  hand,"  keep  the  peace  of  our  huge  metro- 
polis  would  be  sure  to  make  his  appearance  sooner  or 
later ;  but  in  "  Imperial  Papal  E^me"-"  Orhis  terrarum 
Bomina  et  Caput'' -i^i^Y  disdain  such  vulgar  appliances 
for  the  protection  of  the  peaceable,  and  you  might  be 
stabbed,  robbed,  dead,  and  flung  into  the  Tiber,  at  any 
point  of  the  city,  at  any  hour  from  sunset  to  sunrise, 
without  either  a  detective  or  ordinary  policeman  askmg 
"What's  the  row?"  or  desiring  a  loitering  marauder  to 
"  move  on."     This  being  notoriously  the  case,  I  thought 
it  better  to  "move  on"  of  my  own  axicord,  although  whi- 
ther  I  had  not  the  least  notion ;  but  the  thought  that  1 
might  be  standing  in  the  way  of  an  appointment,  or  come 
to  be  mistaken  for  an  object  of  jealousy,  caused  me  to 
hasten  my  steps  from  this  dangerous  neighbourhood. 

A  few  paces  brought  me  to  a  point  where  a  street  (m 
more  northern  regions  we  should  caU  it  a  lane)  debouched 
upon  that  down  which  I  was  hastening ;  it  yawned  literaUy 


172 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0TIE"-ISTS 


as  "  dark  as  a  wolf's  mouth,"  and  although  my  anxious  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  footsteps  coming  hastily  towards  me, 
I  was  absolutely  unable  to  see  the  individual  who  ap- 
proached from  it,  until,  in  his  speed,  he  rushed  against  me. 
Even  then  I  could  distinguish  neither  shape  nor  person, 
but  I  felt  that  he  must  have  been  a  man  of  much  slighter 
make,'  and  less  bulk  than  myself,  otherwise,  with  the  mo- 
mentum of  his  motion,  and  standing  stiU  as  I  was,  I  must 
have  been  nearly  flung  down ;  as  it  happened,  it  was  he 
who  staggered  back  from  the  shock,  but  at  once  recovering, 
proceeded  to  pass  me,  with  '' permesso,  Signor:'     The 
voice  was  that  of  a  gentleman,  and  I  was  getting  together 
my  miserable  vocabulary  to  ask  pardon  for  interrupting 
him,  and  to  inquire  my  way,  when,  quite  out  in  the  street, 
and  no  longer  in  the  cavern-like  entrance  of  the  house, 
with  an  intensified  sharpness— bespeaking  agony,  mingled 
with  fear  of  being  overheard— the  words  came  hissing  along 

the  walls, 

"  Geronymo,  Geronymo,  per  amor  di  Bio  /" 
"  Santissima  Madre,  siamo  perdutiP'  cried  the  man,  as, 
with  a  push  which  turned  me  round,  he  rushed  past.  At 
the  same  moment  a  light  gleamed  from  the  cavity  of  the 
entrance ;  I  caught  a  glimpse,  and  but  a  glimpse,  of  some- 
thing white,  I  heard  a  piercing  shriek,  a  scuffle,  a  stamping 
of  feet— I  waited  for  no  more,  but,  hap-hazard,  ran  away 
as  fast  as  my  legs  could  carry  me,  considering  that  "  any 
port"  was  preferable  to  weathering  the  tornado  of  an 

Italian  quarrel. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  I  found  myself  in  an  open  space 
—not  a  square,  but  a  junction  of  streets  somewhat  re- 
sembling the  Seven  Dials  in  London,  and  most  gladly  did 


A  NIGHT  WITH  ANTHONY  PASQTIIN,  IN  1851.        173 

I  acknowledge  and  execrate  my  stupidity,  when  at  the 
corner  of  one  of  the  streets  I  recognised  old  Pasquin  !— 
my  paper  stuck  on  the  stump  of  his  left  arm ;  in  short, 
nothing  but  my  own  precipitation  and  headlong  haste 
could  have  carried  me  so  very  far  astray  as  I  had  run.    I 
soon  took  the  right  turn  to  the  Piazza,  thence,  after  some  - 
stumbling  about,  I  found  myself  in  the  beaten  track  to  the 
Borghese  Palace,  whence  a  few  minutes'  walk  brought  me 
home.     I  had  been  nearly  two  hours  absent,  and  found 
the  young  folks,  though  half-laughing,  yet  beginning  to 
be  uneasy  at  my  delay,  forgetting  that  it  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing  to  find  your  way  through  Eome,  with  eyes 

open,  and  blindfolded 

In  the  course  of  our  morning's  drive  next  day,  my  girls 
had,  of  course,  something  to  do  at  "  the  shawl  merchants'," 
Hving,  as  I  before  said,  in  the  Piazza  Navona ;  and  while 
they  employed  themselves  in  a  "  shopping,"  I  took  the 
opportunity  to  saunter  towards  the  corner  "  quite  promis- 
cuously," as  one  might  say.     Contrary  to  my  expectation, 
I  found  the  paper  I  had  put  up  the  night  before  still  un- 
removed,  and  two  or  three  people  trying  to  spell  out  its 
meaning.  Of  course  I  passed  on  as  innocently  as  if  I  knew 
nothing  about  it,  and  tried  to  recognise  wHch  of  the 
streets  I  had  run  up  in  error  the  night  before.    AVhile  I 
stood  in  doubt  as  to  which  of  two  streets  might  be  that  ^ 
particular  one,  I  saw,  about  half-way  up  one  of  them,  about  * 
a  dozen  people  loitering ;  it  could  not  be  called  a  crowd, 
and  yet  they  were  evidently  not  moving  on.    It  occurred 
to  me  that  this  might  have  been  the  scene  of  my  nocturnal 
adventure,  and  I  walked  towards  them. 

On  arriving,  I  found  them  aH  sHently  observing  the 


M 


174 


GLEAKITfGS  AI-TEE  "  GEA2fD  TOTJIl"-ISTS 


same  object,  whicli  told  me  that  my  conjecture  was  just. 
On  the  stones  in  front,  and  on  the  wall  beside  a  large 
doonvay,  opening  into  a  house  of  ample  size,  were  thick 
plashes  of  blood,  evidently  spilled  in  some  recent   and 
deadly  struggle.     The  dogs,  the  only  active  scavengers  in 
Eome,  had  not  been  at  the  spot  yet,  and  though  there  was 
a  gushing  fountain  not  many  yards  off,  no  human  hand 
had  yet  done  the  office  of  decency  in  removing  the  marks  of 
murder.   Men  loitered,  and  pointed,  and  spoke  in  whispers. 
"Women  occasionally  stood  still  for  a  moment,  shuddered, 
crossed  themselves,  and  passed  on.     I  approached  one 
man,  and  asked  him,  "  What  is  that  ?" 

«  Who  knows,  Signor  ?"  he  replied,  coldly,  and  passed  on. 
Yes,  truly— who  knows  ?  Who  vrill  ever  know  ?  The 
spot,  as  I  afterwards  found,  was  not  very  far  from  the 
grand  and  now  desolate  Pamese  Palace ;  the  yeUow  Tiber 
rolled  by,  near  and  rapidly,  and  on  its  waters,  probably, 
the  chief  ghastly  evidence  "  was  rolling,"  like  Lara's  victim, 
"undiscovered  to  ocean."  But  who  the  \ictim  was — 
whether  the  whispering  female,  the  tardy  Geronymo,  or 
the  angry  disturber  of  their  assignation— whether  one  or 
more  of  these,  no  one  will  ever  know.  So  they  order 
matters  of  police  at  Eome. 


« 


EOMi. 


SUBTEKBANEA"— "  AD  CATACUMBAS."       175 


a 


EOMA 


CHAPTEE  X. 

SUBTEEEAKEA"— "  AD  CATACUMBAS  !" 

"Quidnam  sibi  saxa  cavata 
Quid  pulclira  volunt  monumenta 
Nisi  quod  res  creditur  illis, 
Non  mortua,  sed  data  somno  ? 

"  Hoc  provida  Christi  colorum 
Pietas  studet,  ut  pote  credens 
Fore  protinus  omnia  viva 
Quaj  nunc  gelidus  sopor  urget." 

Pkudentius. 


What  mean  gravestones  deeply  traced? 
What  yon  stately  marbled  heap  ? 
What  but  this— that  here  are  placed^ 
Those  who  "  are  not  dead,  but  sleep !" 

Christian  care  such  cost  bestows, 
Not  in  ostentation  vain, 
But  because  the  Christian  knows 
Buried  dust  shall  live  again. 

It  seems  impossible  to  Imow  whither  the  tide  of  events 
or  of  opinions  may  not  hurry  us.  In  tHs  present  1855  the 
eyes  and  interests  of  the  world  are  fixed  upon  the  great 
powers  of  Europe,  making  their  battle-field  of  a  region  Httle 
known,  indeed  we  might  say  whoUj  forgotten,  for  ages,  and 
the  reading  public  and  its  providers  axe  now  "  reading  up" 
and  "  getting  up  "  information  as  to  these  localities  out  of 


176  GLEATfllTGS  AFTEB  "  GE^ND  T0TJE"-IST3. 

dusty  tomes  wHch  had  long  ceased  to  be  opened.    This 
remark  may  well  open  a  chapter  upon  the  "  Eoman  Cata- 
combs  -"—for  as  the  tide  of  warfare  has  brought  the  Eu- 
ropean powers  into  conflict  among  the  sands  and  shallows 
of  the  Euxine,  so  has  the  course  of  polemic  controversy 
carried  Papist  and  Protestant  into  the  windings  and  ob- 
scurity  of  the  ^^arenaria''  of  ancient  Eome,  thence  to 
summon  the  buried  dead  of  the  first  five  centuries,  to 
testify  whether  certain  disputed  tenets  be  primitive  truths 
or  comparatively  modern  inventions.    It  was  a  Mr  Mait- 
land,  I  believe,  who  first  thought  of  calling  on  the  "  Church 
of  the  Catacombs"  to  give  evidence  on  these  points;  he 
has  worked  up  his  case  with  much  ingenuity,  but  with 
some  haste,  and,  as  .is  usual  with  an  advocate  anxious  to 
bring  forth  his  own  strong  proofs,  has  occasionaUy  over- 
looked  some  points  in  his  adversary's  favour. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  pursue  or  treat  this  subject 
polemically,  but  a  brief  statement  of  the  general  question 
and  argument,  derived  from  the  "  Church  of  the  Catacombs," 
as  they  stand,  cannot  be  omitted  in  a  chapter  hke  the 

^''"'certain  doctrines  of  Eomanism,"  argues  Mr.  Maitland, 
«  are  modern  inventions,  because  the  primitive  Christians 
knew  nothing  of  them  f  for  example,  a  purgatory/  they 
knew  not,  for  the  almost  universal  inscription  on  their 
monumental  slabs  is  not,  in  modern  phrase,  "  Beqmescat 
in  pacer  but,  "  In  peace."  "  Peace"  and  "  Eest  in  Christ, 
not  asked  for,  but  deckred  to  be  the  portion  of  the  de- 
parted,  everywhere  meet  the  eye ;  and  this,  he  infers 
could  not,  and  would  not  be  said,  if  undefined  periods  of 
purgatorial  fire  were  supposed  to  be  passing,  or  to  pass^ 
over  the  "souls  of  the  faithful." 


"  SOMA  STJBTEBEA^'EA" — "  AD  CATACUMBAS."        177 


Again,  "  asJcin^  the  suffrages  of  the  saints  in  hliss  was 
no  primitive  doctrine,"  urges  Mr.  Maitland,  else  we  should 
find  them  invoked  on  the  martyr's  tomb,  or  mingled  with 
the  confessor's  praises.     Thus,  where  we  find  a  slab  re- 
cording where  "  Lannus,  Christ's  martyr,"  who  "  suffered 
under  Dioclesian,"  rested,  it  would  be  natural,  according 
to  modern  Eoman  usage,  to  have  added,  "  Holy  Lannus, 
pray  for  us  "  but  no  such  thing  appears.     "When  Gor- 
dianus,  an  officer  of  rank,  ''jiigdatus  pro  fede;'  has  his 
simple  record  erected  by  his  poor  maid-servant,  Theophila, 
"  it  might  have  been  expected,"  he  says,  "that  she  would 
ask  his  intercession  for  his  affectionate  handmaiden;"   but 
no  such  thing  is  found. 

In  like  manner,  the  "  celibacy  of  the  clergy"  is  held  to 
be  inferentially  disproved,  when  we  find  "  Laurentia,  the 
wife  of  Bishop  Leo,"  erecting  his  monumental  record;  an-  ^ 
other  stone  dedicated  to  the  "  once  happy  daughter  of  the 
presbyter  Gabinus;"  and  a  third  to  "Petronia,"  a  "deacon's 
wife,  the  type  of  modesty."  Prom  these  records  Mr.  Mait- 
land concludes  that  in  "  the  church  of  the  Catacombs"  the 
"  celibacy  of  the  clergy"  was  a  doctrine  unknown. 

On  a  similar  principle  he  proceeds  to  disprove,  with 

more  or  less  force,  several  other  dogmas,  such  as  the  "  use 

of  images,"  of  "  crucifixes"  (ythich.  he  derives  from  a  gradual 

corruption  of  the  cross-like  monogram  (  >p),  common  upon 

Catacomb  tombs  for  the  name  of  Cheist).     He  remarks 

that  along  the  whole  length  of  the  lapidarian  gallery  not  one 

invocation  or  mention  of  the  Virgin  Mary  is  to  be  found ; 

and  thus,  for  what  it  is  worth,  offers  from  these  records  of 

the  first  five  centuries  a  line  oi  negative  evidence  against  the 

idea  of  the  early  Christians  having  known  or  believed  those 


178  GLEAITINGS  AFTEE  "  GEA1?D  T0TJE".ISTS. 

things  whicli  were  rejected  at  the  great  Protestant  return 
to  primitive  doctrine  three  centuries  since. 

In  respect  to  -invoking  the  suffrages  of  the  faithful 
departed  "  Mr.  Maitland  acknowledges  that  one  record 
wHch  he  examined  does  contain  such  an  invocation,  but 
had  he  been  looking  for  them  he  might  have  seen  more,  and 
admitted  their  existence  without  materiaUy  impairmg  his 
argument,  for  certainly  three  or  four  more  do  exist,  and  his 
opponents  have  been  very  careful  to  collect  and  produce 
them,  as  if  designedly  passed  over  by  him.     Yet  it  does 
aeem  to  me,  that  so  far  from  impairmg  Mr.  Maitland  s 
argument,  these  few  records  strengthen  it,  upon  the  prm- 
ciple  of  "  exceptio  prolat  regulamr   If,  from  the  Catacomb 
gaUeries,  stretching,  as  is  asserted,  under  and  round  Eome, 
«  hundreds  of  miles,"  and  from  their  lapidary  inscriptions, 
amounting  to  hundreds  of  thousands !  but  three  or  four 
(let  us  assume   that  they  might  amount  to  a  dozen)  could 
be  found,  asking  the  prayers  of  the  departed-and  these, 
not  (as  has  been  observed)  on  the  tomb  of  saint  or  martyr, 
but  on  that  of  some  little  child,  or  proceeding  from  some 
ignorantly  affectionate  person-then,  assuredly,  the  mfer- 
ence  is,  that  it  was  not  the  Catholic  usage  nor  faith  of  the 
Church  of  the  first  ages  to  ask  such  intercession. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  in  reference  to  these  questions, 

that  the  old  Eomish  writers  upon  the  Catacombs  would 

appear  to  have  been  quite  unsuspicious  that  any  missile 

could  be   discharged  from  that  quarter  agamst  the  al- 

leged  novelties  of  the  Eoman  creed.    ArringMs  "Eoma 

Subterranea"  is  an  elaborate  work,  giving  sheet  after  sheet 

of  Catacomb  inscriptions,  to  the  number  of  thousands, 

and  like  Mr.  Maitland,  I  have  been  unable  to  find  therem 

a  single  inscription  affirming  any  of  the  disputed  tenets ; 


"  EOMA  SUBTEEEANEA" — "  AD  CATACUMBAS.'*       179 

yet,  strange  to  say,  no  sooner  had  Mr.  Maitland  taken  the 
line  of  argument  indicated  above,  than  several  inscriptions 
have  been  produced  with  a  suspicious  readiness  which 
almost  leads  to  a  doubt  whether  the  manufacture  of 
ancient  epitaphs,  as  of  verdigrised  coins  and  other  modern 
antiquities,  may  not  be  among  the  resources  of  Eoman 
industry.  It  would  be,  at  least,  as  easy  to  invent  and  cir- 
culate an  "inscription"  as  a  '^ decretal T 

Those  lapidary  inscriptions  had  a  strange  fascination  for 
me  ;  I  spent  hours  in  copying  them  in  fac-simile,  until  ab 
last  I  could  transfer  the  Graeco-Latine  characters  to  my 
note-book  with  ease,  and  as  rudely  as  any  primitive 
"  Fossor"  They  presented  a  strange  medley  of  cha- 
racters and  languages,  sentiments  and  spelling.  The  blun- 
ders and  ludicrous  ideas  of  our  English  country  church- 
yard epitaphs  are  often  noticed,  but,  without  doubt,  they 
might  be  matched  in  these  records  of  that  Augustan  and 
post- Augustan  age,  when  some  people  suppose  that  even 
the  very  fish- wives  of  Eome  scolded  in  Ciceronian  Latin! 

One  great  interest  of  these  Catacomb  records  lies  in  the 
contrast  they  present  to  the  contemporary  sentiments  of 
heathen  graves.  It  has  been  well  said,  that  our  world, 
long  "  christened  J  has  never  yet  been  cJiristianised^  This 
is  too  sadly  true  ;  yet,  such  is  the  power  of  Christianity, 
even  though  indirect  and  imperfect,  over  mind  and  senti- 
ment, that  it  prevents  us  from  knowing  the  deep  darkness 
and  gross  sensualism  in  which  the  world  lay  when  "  life 
and  immortality  were  brought  to  light  in  the  Grospel." 
But  let  us  go  to  the  "  Catacomb  Church,"  and  to  the 
adjacent  "  Columbaria"  of  heathenism,  where  the  Believer 
and  the  Pagan  "  being  dead,  yet  speak"  the  language  and 

n2 


180  GLEANINGS  AFTEE  «  GRAND  T0UE"-ISI3. 

sentiments  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived,  and  of  the 
spirit  that  was  in  them,  and  there  we  shall  know  how  to 
appreciate  better  our  Church's  words  of  challenge  and 
confidence,  when,  in  the  beautiful  lesson  of  the  "  Bur.al 
Service,"  she  asks,  "where  is  death's  sting?"  and  the 
grave's  victory?"  and  "thanks  God,  who  giveth  us  the 
victory  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  I  copy  one  or 
two  selected  contrasts  from  my  note-book,  and  leave  the 
Heathen  and  the  Christian  to  speak  for  themselves : 

THE   CHRISTIAN. 


CECILIVS  MARITVS  CECILIAE 
PLACIDIANAE  COIVGI  OPTIMAE 
MEMORIAE  CVM  QVA  VIXI  ANNIS 
X  BENE  SE  NE  VLLA  QVERELLA 

ixerc 


Cecilius,  the  husband  of  Cecilia 
Placidiana.     To  my  wife,  of  exceUent 
memory,  with  whom  I  lived  ten 
years  without  any  quarrel. 

Jesus  Christ,  Son  of  God,  Saviour. 

THE   HEATHEN. 


V:   AN.    LVII. 
D:    M. 
TI  .  CLAVDI  .  SECVNDI 
HIC  SECVM :  HABET  OMNIA  : 
BALNEA  .  VINVM  .  VENVS 
CORRVMPVNT  .  CORPORA . 
NOSTRA:  SED  VITAM  .  FACIVNT 
B  .  V  .  V 
KARO  CONTVBERNALI 
FEC:  MEROPE  CAES: 
ET  SIBI  ET  SVIS  .  P  .  E. 


«  EOMA  SUBTEEEANEA" — "  AD  CATACUMBAS."       181 


He  lived  fifty-seven  years. 

To  the  divine  manes  of 
Titus  Claudius  Secundus. 
Here  he  enjoyed  all  things. 
Baths,  Wine,  Women, 
Destroy  our  constitutions ; 
Still  they  are  life  ! 
Baths,  Wine,  Women. 
To  her  dear  chamber-fellow 
Merope  Caesarea  made  this, 
And  for  herself  and  theirs 
After  death. 

Now  when  we  "  look  on  this  picture  and  on  that,"  it 
seems  impossible  not  to  feel,  as  it  were,  the  spirit  of  the 
two  systems  emanating  from  the  manes  of  the  respective 
disciples  of  each.  Trom  the  tomb  of  Claudius  Secundus, 
aw^e-Christian  Eome  speaks  its  condition,  social,  moral, 
and  domestic.  The  sensual  worn-out  Heathen,  dead  just 
at  the  time  of  life  when  "  love,  respect,  and  honour,  troops 
of  friends"  should- have  begun  to  crown  and  wait  on  a 
« green  old  age  lusty  and  kindly,"  is  here  chronicled 
by  his  degraded  wife  as  a  self-indulging  debauchee— a 
*'  genuine  hog  from  the  Epicurean  sty ;"  whUe  the  moral 
spoken  from  his  monument  to  survivors  is  that  Sad- 
ducean  sentiment  which  the  Apostle  quotes  as  its  own 
condemnation—"  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 

die." 
When  we  turn  to  the  Christian  epitaph,  there  is  not,  it  is 

true,  much  in  it,  so  to  speak.   I,  who  have  seen  the  original, 

am  bound  to  acknowledge  it  is  a  shabby  affair  altogether: 

neither  style,  spelling,  nor  grammar,  are  at  all  creditable 

to  the  designer,  or  engraver  of  the  memorial.  I  dare  to  say 


182  G1EANIKG8  AFTEE  "  OEAND  T0UB"-ISTS. 

Cecilius  and  Cecilia  were  considered  humdrum,  common- 
place kind  of  people  by  those  «  fast"  livers  "  Claudius  and 
Merope  •"  but  there  is  a  hearty,  homely,  manly  strain  of 
propriety  and  domestic  affection  in  it,  which  bespeaks  them 
of  the  number  of  those  who  "Uyed  soberly,  righteously 
godly  in  this  present  world,"  and  were  able  to  look  beyond 
Ft  to  a  better,  for  the  «  appearing  of  their  Lord  and  Sayiour 
Je«us  Christ ;"  they  were  just  the  sort  of  people  to  verify 
the  assertion  of  the  early  Christian  apologist,  '^  Non  magna 
loQuimur  sed  vivimvs."    If  the  foregoing  presents  a  forcible 
contrast  in  moral  and  domestic  life,  the  following  offers  a 
no  less  striking  picture  of  the  difference  between  the 
chastened  sorrow  of  the  Christian  and  the  wild,  impotent 
rebeUion  of  the  Heathen  under  those  providential  inflic- 
tions common  to  all  men,  to  which  humanity  is  born  "  as 
the  sparks  to  fly  upwards."    There  is  a  well-known  story 
of  the  poor  Indian  savage  who,  when  he  had  for  some  time 
prayed  in  vain  to  his  unsightly  idol  for  success  in  hunting 
at  length  in  rage  took  his  god,  made  of  a  tree-stock,  and 
dashed  him  against  the  ground:  his  savage  fit  was  soon 
over,  and  probably  changed  into  shame  and  fear;  but 
what  shall  we  say  to  the  cultivated,  gentile  mother  who, 
in  her  hour  of  sorrow,  thus  engraves  in  classic  correct- 
ness her  desperate  defiance  of  heaven  above  and  heU  be- 
neath?   Hers  is  the  desolation  of  a  Niobc,  but  it  is  ot  a 
Niobe  "fur ens"  not  " lachrymosa." 


"  EOMA  SITBTEEBANEa"— "  AD  CATACUMBAS 


}> 


183 


CLAVDIA  HEDONE  ]VIATER 

INFELICISSIM  :  QVAE  .  ANN 

CONTINVIS  IIII .  CLAVDIVM 

HEDONVM  -  FIL  -  PIISSM  . 

ANN  XXVII .  ET    FILIAES  -  FIL  -  TITIA 

PEREGRINA  .  AN  .  VII.  ET 

TITIA  FELICVLA  FIL  CARISSI 

AN  .  XXIX  .  EGO  SEMPITERN 
TEMPORE  ETIAM  APVT  SVPER:  ET 
INFEROS  .  MALEDICT.   HABEO  . 
QVISQ  LEGER  SI  TAMEN  PIVS  EST 
NECESSE  EST  VT  DOLEATVR. 
D-  M-  TITIAE  FELICIAE  VIX  .  AN  XXIV 
CLAVDIA.  HEDONE  MATER  INFELICISS. 


Claudia  Hedone,  a  most  unhappy  mother,  who,  in  four  suc- 
cessive years,  Cost)  her  most  pious  son  Claudius  Hedone,  aged 
27  years,  and  her  granddaughter  Titia  Peregrina,  7  years,  and 
Titia   Felicula,  her  most  beloved  daughter,  29  years.      For 
ever  will  I  hold  gods,  celestial  and  infernal,  accursed. 
All  who  read  this,  however  pious,  must  needs  gneve. 
To  the  divme  manes  of  Titia  Felicia,  who  lived  29  years. 
Claudia  Hedone,  a  mother  most  wretched.* 

Now,  when  we  place  in  comparison  with  this  the  disci- 
plined  spirit  in  which  Christianity  teaches  its  professors  to 
speak,  when  enduring  the  chastisement  of  the  Lord,  as  of 
a  father,  who  "doth  not  willingly  afflict,"  and  all  whose 
dealings  "  work  for  good  to  them  that  love  Him,"  the  con- 
trast  may  be  left  to  justify  itself,  between  the  mind  of  the 
mother  who  would  "  curse  God  and  die,"   and  of  those 

•  This  inscription  was  not  copied  at  Rome;  though  doubtless  ongi- 
naUy^  ugM  f^om  thence.    It  caught  my  eye  while  resting  x^seK  after 

afoL  of  the  Halls  of  Sculpture,  in  the  ^^Z\J:2oT'gZ^ 
scribed  it  as  speaking  the  very  spirit  of  an  affliction  without      God, 
"  hope,"  or  knowledge  of  "  another  and  a  better  world. 


184 


GLEANINGS  AFTEH  "  GEAND  TOUIl"-ISTS 


wlio  "taugbt  to  let  patience  have  its  perfect  work,"  cau 
*'  glorify  God  in  tlie  day  of  visitation." 


MACVS  .  PVER  INNOCENS 
ESSE  lAM  INTER  INNOCENTIS  COEPISTI. 
QVAM  STAVILES  TIVI  HAEC  VITA  EST 
QVAM  TE  LETVM  EXCIPIET  MATER  ECLESIAE  DEO  E 
MVNDO  REVERTENTEM.  CONPREMATVR  PECTORVM 
GEMITVS.  STRVATVR  FLETVS  OCVLORVM. 


Macus,  an  innocent  boy. 

Ton  have  now  begun  to  be  among  the  innocent. 

How  enduring  is  this  life  to  you. 

How  gladly  will  your  mother  receive  you 

Returning  to  the  Church  of  God  from  this  world. 

Be  the  groans  of  our  bosoms  repressed, 

The  tears  of  our  eyes  dispersed.* 

All  the  humanised  and  simplified  affections  of  domestic 

life    speak  to    us    from    these    Catacomb    monuments. 

Whether  it  be  the  love  of  husband  to  wife,  of  parent  to 

child,  or  conversely,!  it  is  recorded  in  a  tone  of  feeling 

*  I  have  selected  this  contrasted  epitaph  rather  than  others  breathing 
the  same  spirit,  because  I  must  respectfully  think  that  Mr.  Maitland, 
who  gives  a  version  of  it,  seems  to  have  misconceived  its  meaning  to  an 
extent  requiring  correction.     He  renders  it  thus : 

"  Macus,  an  innocent  boy. 
You  have  already  begun  to  be  among  the  innocent. 

How  enduring  is  such  a  life  to  you. 
How  gladly  will  your  mother,  the  Church  of  God, 

Receive  you  returning  to  this  world. 
Let  us  restrain  our  sighs  and  cease  from  weeping." 
As  I  read  the  text,  it  will  not  admit  of  the  latter  part  of  this  transla- 
tion by  any  rule  of  construction. 

f  In  an  age  when  "the  slave  was  a  chattel,"  and  "the  master  too 
often  a  tyrant,"  it  would  not  be  right  to  omit  an  evidence  that  the 
Christian  Church  recognised  and  acted  on  those  precepts  (Eph.  vi.  and 
Colos.  iii.,  iv.)  which  regulated  the  reciprocal  duties  of  masters  and  ser- 
Tants  by  reference  to  their  common  "  Master  in  heaven,  with  whom  h 
no  respect  of  persons."     In  the  lithograph  fac-simile,  at  the  end  of  this 


"  EOMA  SUBTEEEANEA" — "  AD  CATACUMBA3."       185 


which  expresses  the  sanctifying  influence  of  Christian 
marriage ;  and  if  we  could,— if  we  dared  to  place  in  contrast 
some  of  the  glimpses  given  in  heathen  popular  writers  of 
the  foul  thing  heathen  marriage  was  !— we  should  compel 
even  the  vilest  to  own,  from  what  a  "  given  over"  state  of 
iniquity  God  sent  His  Son  to  redeem  the  world.  But,  as 
has  been  said,  we  dare  not  show  the  lane;  we  must,  there- 
fore, be  content  to  exhibit  the  results  of  the  antidote  : 


DGNAE  bene// 
MERENTI  CON 
PARI .  MERCVRIAE 
QVAE  VIXIT  AN 
NIS.  P.M:XL  SINE 
ALIQVA  QVERELA 
A :  DEP.  D.  XVII  KAL 
NOB.  HEROS.  FECIT 
SIBI:  ET  CONPARI  SVAE 


To  his  worthy  and  weU-deserving  spouse  Mercuria,  who 
lived  forty  years,  more  or  less  !  without  any  quarrel,  and  was 
buried  the  17th  of  the  Kalends  of  November.  Heros  made 
this  for  himself  and  his  spouse. 

The  Alpha  and  Omega  Christ 

This  is  a  common  form  of  conjugal  afi-ection.   The  parental 
feeling  also  speaks  in  many  cases  with  an  affectmg  sim- 

chapter,  will  be  found  the  poor  servant-maid's  memorial  to  ^^r  mart^^ 
master,  and  below  we  copy  some  master's  record  of  his  servant  s  fidelity. 


HIC  siTVS     NOTA 
TVS    5ERVVS  FIDE 

LiSSiMVS 


T.mr'?-^"'^*''*'- 


186  GIEAHINOS  ATTEE  "  OBAHD  TOTTb'  '-ISTS. 

plicity  most  interesting  to  contemplate.  Who  wiU  not 
sympathise  in  the  poor  father's  prolixity  as  he  records 
the  good  quaUties  of  that  precocious  and  promising  chUd, 
Palmatius  ? 


COPIED  IN  THE  «  COLLEGIO  ROMANO.' 


' 


DALMATIO  DVLCISSIMO  TOTI 
VS  INGENIOSITATIS  AC  SAPIENTI 
AE  PVERO  QVEM  PLENIS  SEPTEM  AN 
vjq  PERFRVI  PATRI  INFELICI  NON  LICV 
n   S^SSTY^^^S  LITTERAS  GRAECAS  NON 
MONSTRATAS  SIBI  LATINAS  ADRIPYIT  ET  IN 
TRIDVO  EREPTVS  EST  REBVS  HVMANIS  HI  ID  FER 
NATVS  VIII  KAL  APR  DALMATIVS  PATER  FEC. 


I 


To  Dalmatius,  a  most  sweet  boy,  of  the  greatest  intellect 
and  wisdom,  whom  his  unhappy  father  conld  not  enjoy  seven 
years  complete;  who,  untaught,  made  himself  —  of  ^be 
Greek  and  Latin  alphabets,  and  was  torn  from  this  hfe  by  a 
three-day  iUness,  the  3rd  of  the  Ides  of  February. 
Bom  8th  of  the  Kalends  of  April. 

Dalmatius,  his  father,  made  this. 

Poor  Dalmatius  need  hardly  liave  told  us  that  tlie 
epitaph  was  of  his  composition.  Who  but  a  fond  father 
would  have  thought  of  recording  the  alphabet  feats  of  his 
poor  little  seven  years  old  prodigy  ? 

To  return  to  the  conjugal  style  of  epitaph,  and  yet  one 
which  partakes  so  much  of  the  childish,  that  one  knows 
not  how  to  class  it,  here  we  have  a  boy-husband  expressmg 
bis  sorrow  for  his  "  child-wife,"  in  a  style  which  "  David 
Copperfield"  might  have  copied  for  the  tomb  of  his  poor 
«'Dora:" 


"  BOMA  STJBTEEEAKBA'* — "  AD  CATACUMBAS."      187 


DOMINAE 
INNOCENTISSIMAE  ET  DVLCISSIMAE  COIVGI 
QVAE  VIXIT  ANN  XVI.  ]MVII.  ET  FVIT 
IMARITATA  ANN  DVOBVS  MIIII  DVIIII 
CVM  QVA  NON  LIC.VIT  FVISSE  PROPTER 
CAVSAS  PERIGRINATIONIS 

NISIMENSIBVS:  VI 
QVO  TEMPORE  VT  EGO  SENSI  ET  EXHIBVI 

AMOREM  MEVM. 
NVLLIS  V  ALII  SIC  DILEXERVNT 
DEPOSIT  XV  KAL  JVN. 


To  Dominae, 
my  most  innocent  and  sweetest  wife,  who  lived  sixteen  years 
and  seven  months,  and  had  been  married  two  years,  four 
months,  and  nine  days,  with  whom,  on  account  of  travelling, 
I  could  not  be  more  than  six  months.  During  which  period, 
.       as  I  felt,  so  I  showed  my  love. 

None  else  ever  so  loved  each  other ! 

Buried  15th  of  the  Kalends  of  June. 

The  boy-widower  (for  a  boy  he  must  have  been),  does  not 

teU  his  own  name,  but  the  whole  story  of  the  inscription 

is  strange  and  affecting :  a  girl  married  at  fourteen,  dead 

at  sixteen,  and  separated  ''propter  causas  peregrinationis'' 

from  her  husband  for  a  specified  number  of  months  and 

days,  making  more  than  two-thirds  of  their  wedded  life. 

Could  it  have  been  that  the  husband  was  "traveller"  or 

« bagman"  to  some  large  wholesale  Eoman  warehouse  ? 

Or  possibly,  as  Lord  Herbert   of  Cherbury,  married  at 

fifteen,  was  sent  back  to  college  to  finish  his  exercises 

there,  so  our  young  Eoman    husband  was   sent  in  the 

honeymoon  to  complete  his  "  grand  tour."    The  case  is 


188  GLEANINGS  AFTEIi  "  GEAND  TOTJE^-ISTS. 

mysterious ;  the  only  thing  evident  is,  the  «  boy  and  girl" 
affection  pervading  the  epitaph. 

Who  was  "Leporus  the  fisherman?"  Little,  we  dare 
to  say,  did  the  honest  fellow  think  of  living  in  history  oh 
his  daughter's  tombstone  ;  and  yet  the  affection  of  some 
sorrowing  sweetheart  has  ferried  him  across  the  gulf  of 
twelve  or  fourteen  centuries  of  time,  and  made  him  known 
to  us  as  the  parent  of  his  lost  love : 


DVI:    DVL:    KAR 

HONEBATIE  SANCTIPE 

AMAVI :  II.        QVI  DECS  ^g 

ANNORVM  XVI 
FILIA  LEPORI  PISCATORIS 
SCRP  X  KAL  OCT.  SATVR 
NINVS  AMATOR.  FF.  />/5. 


I 


To  the  divine,  sweet,  and  dearest 
Honoria  Santipe. 
I  loved  her.  .  .  .  who  died  in  Christ, 

Aged  sixteen  years. 
The  daughter  of  Leporus  the  fisherman. 
Written  10th  of  the  Kalends  of  October. 

Saturninus,  her  lover,  caused  this  to  he  made. 

Whether  Honoria  Santipe  {ciu.  Zantippe?)  might  not,  like 
her  namesake  of  scolding  memory,  have  turned  "love  into 
patience,-  "an  she  had  lived  to  be  married,"  is  now  but  mat- 
ter  of  conjecture ;  but  there  is  an  incoherent,  affecting  sim- 
plicity  in  her  lover's  record,  rounded  off  as  it  is  with  the 
L  hearts  at  the  end,  which  is  interesting.  We  dare  to 
affirm  that  Saturninus  was  a  manly,  true-hearted  young 
fellow. 


«  KOMA  SUBTEERANEA"— "  AD  CATACUMBAS."       189 

We  must  limit  our  selections,  or  in  the  myriads  of  Cata- 
comb slabs,  which,  besides  tliose  in  the  "Vatican  Gallery," 
"  Library,"  and  the  "  CoUegio  Eomano,"  are  to  be  found 
in  every  villa  about  Eome  and  every  provincial  town 
which  pretends  to  a  collection  of  antiquities,  we  should 
never  come  to  an  end.     I  shall,  therefore,  restrict  myself 
to  one  inscription  more,  on  which  I  stumbled,  when  not 
expecting  it,  among  the  curiosities  of  the  Yilla  Albani.    It 
illustrates  the  period  when  there  was  "  daily  ministration 
to  the  widows  of  the  faithful,"  and  when  a  daughter,  proud 
of  beiug  able  to  record  that  her  mother  never  burdened 
the  charities  of  the  Church  for  even  a  cloak,  engraved  the 
following : 


RIGIN^  VENEMERENTI  .  FILIA  SVA  FECIT 
VENERIGINE  MATRI  VIDVAE  QVE  SE 
DIT.VIDVA  ANNOS  LX.  ET  ECCLESA 
NVMQVAM  GRAVAVIT  VNA  BIRA.  QVE 
VIXIT  ANNOS  LXXX  MESSIS  V. 
DIES  XXVIII. 


To  Regina,  the  well-deserving.  Her  daughter  erected  thb 
to  her  respect-inspiring  mother,  who  remained  a  widow  sixty 
years,  and  never  burdened  the  Church  to  the  amount  of  a 
cloak !     She  lived  80  years,  5  months,  28  days. 

But  it  is  time  for  us  to  prepare  to  descend  into  the 
Catacombs  themselves,  and  speak  a  little  of  what  is  seen 

there.    "  H  Padre  Gesuita"  kindly  appointed  a  day 

to  be  our  leader  and  lecturer  through  a  section  of  these 
labyrinthine  defiles.  He  placed  no  limit  to  the  number  or 
Bex  of  our  party,  but  only  that  he  should  not  be  expected 


190  GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  T0UE"-I8TS. 

to  traverse  tlie  streets  of  Eome  in  a  carriage  with  a  lady, 
the  Jesuit  Eule  strictly  forbidding  this.  Accordingly  we 
left  Eome  in  a  cavalcade  of  three  carriages,  the  Jesuit, 
another  clerical  friend,  and  myself  occupying  one.  Had  any 
of  my  "  Ultra-Protestant"  friends  seen  us  in  such  danger- 
ous company,  they  would  have  stared  and  pronounced  me 
" gone  to  Eome"  in  all  senses. 

It  was  not  by  the  "  Sebastiano,"  or  any  other  known  en- 
trance, that  we   descended  to  those   "  caves  and  lower 
depths  of  the  earth,"  it  seemed  to  be  a  passage  accident- 
aUy  discovered,  or  else  formed  for  the  convenience  of 
explorers  and  workmen,  for  it  was  through  a  small  tempo- 
rary  door,  opening  into  the  side  of  a  mound  in  the  middle 
of  a  field,  that  our  guide  led  the  way.     Here  we  were  each 
provided  with  a  roll  of  wax-taper,  such  as  are  commonly 
sold  in  shops,  and  fastened  to  the  end  of  a  small  stick,  bo 
that  as  we  advanced  into  the  windings  our  array  bore 
something   of  a  processional  character.     As  we  passed 
various  little  chapel-like  openings  on  each   side  of  the 
passage,  our  cicerone  stopped  occasionally  to  give  a  de- 
scription, to  open  up  a  symbol,  or  to  illustrate  some  point 
of  early  Christian  worship ;  he  must  have  held  us  as  "  utter 
barbarians  of  the  very  outer  court  of  the  Gentiles, !' '  for  his 
expositions  were  very  elementary  indeed,  as  intended  for 
persons  ignorant  of  the  first  principles  of  Christianity,  to 
whom  it  was  necessary  to  explain  the  import  of  everytJiing 
in  the  early  Christian  ritual  and  usages,  and  it  would  not 
have  been  poHte,  even  if  it  had  been  possible,  for  us  to 
have  interrupted  his  routine  of  explanation. 

"  It  was  here,"  said  our  guide  (pausing  in  a  certain 
crypt),  "that  Monsignor  Talbot  celebrated  mass  for/owr- 


"  EOMA  SUBTEEBANEA"— "  AD  CATACUMBAS."       191 

and4wenty  Pusegisfs  on Sunday  "  (naming  a  "  high 

day  "  some  years  previous). 

« II  Padre Gesuita,"  had  a  rich  black  twinkling 

eye !  and  it  rolled  good  humouredly  upon  my  companion 
and  myself,  as  he  said  this— there  was  no  incivility,  but  a 
little  civil  triumph  of  manner— in  making  the  announce- 
ment, and  I  (for  my  companion  I  cannot  answer)  had  no- 
thing  to  say  to  him  in  reply,  though  to  myself  I  solilo- 
quised,  "The  more  fools  they!"  The  service  was  very 
symbolical,  and  suitable  for  men  "loving  darkness  rather 

than  light." 

Eeflecting  on  this  incident,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should 
not  have   added  to  my  soliloquy,  "knaves,"   as  well  as 
"  fools."  These  four-and'twentg  Puseyists  (so  "  II  Gesuita^ 
named  them),  some  or  more  of  them,  went  back  to  their 
country,  wore  the  garb,  spoke  the  language,  received  the 
pay  of  the  "  Church  established"  in  these  realms  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  period,  during  which  they  continued  to  sow  their 
opinions  as  broadcast  as  they  could :  and  then,  when  convic- 
tion overmastered  them,  went  out  openly,  and  with  bra- 
vado, to  a  hostile  church  to  which  they  had  long  before 
gone  over  in  heart  and  spirit,  and  with  which  they  had,  on 
the  occasion  referred  to,  entered  into  stealthy  and  cryptiG 
communion !     Pie  on  such  principles  and  practice  as  this ! 
there  is  in  them  neither  morality  nor  manliness.     The 
man  who  invented  and  insinuated  such  fashion  of  action 
among  our  countrymen  has  much  to  answer  for,  and  the 
practical  eff'ect  cannot  be  other  than  pernicious  to  the 
truth  and  integrity  of  character  in  these  kingdoms,  of 
which  the  leading  characteristic  has  long  been  fair  dealing 
and  openness ! 


192  GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  T0XJE"-ISTS. 

As  Tre  proceeded  onwards  in  long  array,  and  wound  here 
and  there  through  avenues  and  cross  avenues,  passing  by 
BisoMTJM  and  Tbisomum,  ranged  over  each  other  in  rows 
like  the  compartments  of  a  great  monster  shop,  some  of 
them  open,  some  yet  undisturbed-as  being  either  inscrip- 
tionless,  or  not  offering  any  matter  of  interest-we  came 
at  length  to  the  part  where  the  workmen  were  employed 
in  prosecuting  excavations,  under  the  control  and  direction 
of  our  guide,  to  whom,  as  to  a  custode,  the  superintendence 
of  these  works  had  been  formally  committed  by  the  Pope. 
They  had  just  opened  a  tomb  as  we  came  up,  and  having 
answered  the  Padre's  inquiry,  "  whether  they  had  found 
anything  ?"  in  the  negative,  he  desired  us  to  approach. 
We  crowded  round,  and  holding  our  little  tapers  close  to 
the  edge  of  the  shelf  of  tuffa,  we  saw  laid  in  its  grim  re- 
pose a  skeleton,  on  which  for  at  least  thirteen  hundred 
years   neither  light  had   gleamed  nor  air  passed  before. 
^'  Cosi  e  la  vita .'"  said  the  Jesuit,  gravely.     But  while  we 
looked  on  in  silence,  a  further  and  touching  proof  of  hu- 
man nothingness  came  into  action  before  our  eyes.     Al- 
though   the   skeleton  form  remained  complete  when  we 
looked  at  it  first,  the  admission  of  air  soon  began  to  act 
upon  it  perceptibly;  we  saw  it  disappearing  under  our  gaze. 
Even  as  we  looked,  it  was  resolving  into  atomic  dust,  and 
presently  nothing  remained  but  an  outline  traced  upon  the 
dry  floor  of  the  grave  in  a  substance  resembling  cheese- 
mould!  and  which  was  visible   only  when  we  held  the 
taper  so  as  to  throw  the  light  closely  along  the  level  on 
which  it  lay  and  crumbled.     "  Lord  !  what  is  man  ?"  asks 
the  Psalmist ;  and  here  was  the  grave  answering  silently, 
yet  expressively,  "  Fulvis  et  nihil  /'* 


"  EOMA  SUBTEEHANEA" — "  AD  CATACUMBAS."   193 

• 

We  now  commenced  our  return  journey  through  these 
avenues  of  the  dead.     Some  venturous  young  people  be- 
ginning to  lose  their  first  awe  of  this  subterranean  world, 
and  not  at  all  realising  the  possible  consequences  of  losing 
their  way,  were  continually  getting  into  side-passages,  and 
required  a  watchful  eye  to  keep  them  in  line  of  march.   The 
Jesuit,  who  walked  the  windings  with  all  the  confidence  of 
habit  and  perfect  knowledge,  was  earnest  in  his  warnings 
of  the  ease  with  which  the  clue  might  be  lost,  and  the 
difficulty  of  finding  it  again,  and  we  steady  ones  of  the 
party  were  very  glad  when  we  found  ourselves  once  more 
in  "  upper  air"  without  any  of  our  young  and  giddy  con- 
voy being  reported  "  missing." 

A  modern  writer  on  the  Catacombs,*  has  given  a  very 
interesting  episode  of  a  young  French  officer,  an  "  esprit 
fort^^  who,  during  the  revolutionary  occupation  of  Eome  in 
1798,  having  descended  with  some  mad  comrades  into  the 
Catacombs,  had,  after  a  licentious  carouse,  dashed  off  alone 
in  drunken  daring  into  the  depths  and  darkness!    His 
friends  neither  pursued  nor  waited  for  him,  and,  left  to 
pass  a  night  of  horror  in  the  city  of  the  dead,  his  infidel 
principles  failed  him,  as  they  do  ever  in  the  hour  of  need, 
and  he  was  found  next  morning  a  subject  for  an  hospital, 
whence,  after  the  crisis  of  a  brain  fever,  he  emerged  a 
"'  sadder  and  a  wiser,"  a  "  serious,  reverential"  man,  having 
buried  his  scoffing  and  impiety  in  the  Catacombs ;  and  the 
story,  as  told  to  the  author  by  an  old  priest,  concludes  by 
saying,  that  when  he  fell  some  years   afterwards  in  a 
skirmish  in   Calabria,   he  was  found   with   "  a  copy  of 


*  Macfarlane. 
O 


194  OMANINOS  ArTEE  "  OEAND  I0XTB"-1SIS. 

the  Evangelists  in  lis  poclcet.  —    be  7i(m  e  v     , 

trovato."  J     4.  +„  t»,;,  storv  in  tlie  case  of  a 

Arringhi  has  a  pendant  to  this  stoiy  in 

certain  Abbot  "  Crescentius,"  -ho  lost  h.s  way  m  the 
clco„,b  of  St.  Priscilla  in  the  year  1596  ;  but,  m  h,s  case 
as  „,i.^ht  be  expected,  the  honour  of  the  rescue  .s  claimed 
for™:  samt !     Crescentius,  descending  under  the  conduct 
of  so  r..shly  confident  guide,  found  himself  and  com 
pinions  in  "  Lndering  mazes  lost ;"  hope  seemed  tak  n 
Tay  and  things  come  to  that  pass  to  which  the  prophet  s 
ToS  would  be  applicable,  "  What  meanest  thou,  O  smner? 
Iri    and  call  upon  thy  God!"    The  Abbot  does  rouse 
tCelf  but  it  is  io  invoke  St.  Philip  Neri-  who  answers 
'rolnentlie"  by  showing  him  "The  way  out"  close 
.hand.  If  any  one  doubt  the  truth  of  «-;-;"  ^^^J 
written-  in  that  solid,  solemn,  elaborate  foho, '  Arrmghx  s 
Koma  Subterranea,"  torn.  ii.  cap.  «vm  sect.  22 

The  facsimile  inscriptions  annexed  to  th.s  chapter  are 
selected  from  a  large  collection,  as  showing  --^J^^f; 
pec^anties  ;^^--t:art';  lel^r    of"  t^ 

Some  of  the  slabs  are  scrawled  with  hierogljTl^-s,  derived 
from  the  W.,  or  furnishing  .pla,  onjhe  «««..  of  the 
deceased.  "Po.xi.s  L.o"  indicates  his  b.sonium  F- 
toriallv   by  a  rudely-designed  "lion  passant.  lOR 

CEiiA"  adds  to  her  name  a     little  pig. 
Place  of  rest.     The  emblems  of  the  wool-comber  s  craft 
tlli  frequent.     O.esxm.s,  a  shoemaker,  under.-ntes 

»  Sec  Appendix  for  the  original  version  of  this  piece  of  monstrous 
sancto-latry. 


"  EOMA  SUBTEKBANEA."— "  AD  CATACrMBAS."        195 

his  name  with  a"  shoemaker's  last^  and  one  very  curious 
slab,  engraved  with  a  rude  diagram  of  a  table,  having 
several  polyhedral  figures  thereon,  and  a  man  standing  by, 
shears  in  hand,  was  interpreted  to  me  as  the  burial  slab 
of  a  deceased  "  TaHor,"  name  unkno^vTi.  I  shall  not 
dwell  on  these  inscriptions  further,  but  subjoining  a  "fair 
copy"  of  the  contracted  and  rudely-written  memorials  here 
engraved,  leave  the  reader  to  amuse  himself  in  spelling  the 
transcripts  out  of  the  originals. 

No.  1. 

Lannus,  Chbisti  Martir,  hic  requiescit 

sub  dioclesiano  passus 

(et  posteris  suis). 

This  is  that  Lannus  referred  to  as  a  witness  that,  in 
the  days  of  Dioclesian,  the  Christians  thought  it  no 
robbery  of  a  martj^'s  honour  to  lay  his  posterity  in  the 
same  tomb,  nor  did  they  ^'ask  the  sufi-rages  of  the  faithful 
in  bliss." 

No.  2. 

Orja-  Tcopbrjiwa-.  Gai.li^  jruircius  jugulatus 

PRO  FEDE,  CUM  FAMILlA  TOTA,  QUIESCUNT 
IN  PACE. 

Theophij-a(?)  Ancilla  fecit. 

The  confusion  of  tongues  and  JcaJcograi^hj  in  tHs 
epitaph  is  remarkable  ;  it  bespeaks  great  love,  abounding 
out  of  small  learning,  and,  probably,  "  deep  poverty" 
(2  Cor.  viii.  2),  towards  a  whole  famHy  of  "martyrs  for 
the  faith ;"  and  yet,  as  is  asked,  not  unfairly,  "  does  Theo- 
phila,  moved  by  the  double  respect  for  her  master  and  for 
a  martyr,  write  '  Holy  Gordianus,  pray  for  us  ?'    Ko— no- 

o2 


196  GLEANIKGS  AFTER  "  GEA.ND  T0TJB"-ISTS. 

thing  of  the  kind;'    (Vide  Eev.  William  ArtWs  Lecture 
on  "  The  Church  in  the  Catacombs.") 

No.  3. 

Gentianus  fidelis,  in  pace,  qui  vixit  ^ 
annis  xxi.  menses  viii.  dies  xvi.,  et  in 
orationis  tuis,  roges  pro  nobis,  quia 
scimus  te  in  Christo. 

This  inscription  is  given  in  fairness,  to  show  that  there 
is  some  counter-evidence  {quantum  valeat)  to  prove  that 
the  prayers  of  the  dead  were  sometimes  invoked,  but,  as 
far  as  Catacomb  inscriptions  have  hitherto  been  exammed, 
so  seldom  as  to  give  room  for  the  assertion  that  »  excepUo 
prohat  regulam."  In  this  inscription  is  perceived  also  that 
peculiarity  of  these  memorials  which  gives  the  duration 
of  life  in  years,  months,  and  days  .'-in  another  the  very 
hours  /  are  recorded. 

No.  4. 

6apoia(T,  Kai  /lit; 
ovSeicr  aOavarocT* 

Be  of  good  cheer,  for 
no  one  can  escape  death. 

This  would  seem  to  be  an  application  of  the  scriptural 
assertions  that  "  it  is  appointed  for  all  once  to  die,"  and 
that  "flesh  and  blood  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of 
God."     That  the  cheering  first  word  of  the  inscription 
involves,  or  rather  assumes,  the  doctrine  of  resurrection  ! 
is  evident,  for  had  it  been  the  belief  or  tenet  of  the  framer 
of  tHs  brief  epitaph  that  the  dead  lay  in  "  cold  obstruc- 
tion," the  cheering  exhortation  would  have  been  but  an 
absurd  and  bitter  mockery. 


*'  EOMA  STJBTEEEANEA"-"  AD  CATACUMBAS."       197 

No.  6. 

Sabini  Bisomum,  se  vivnm 
fecit,  sibi  in  cymeterium  beats  (?) 
Ibinae  (?)  in  crypta  novS. 

The  reading  of  this  inscription  is  not  very  distinct,  and 
the  grammatical  construction  barbarous;  but  it  is  given 
as  a  specimen  of  the  indifferent  use  of  the  letters  B  and  V 
for  each  other.  The  "  Bisomum"  was  a  name  for  a  double 
grave,  being  a  compound  of  Latin  and  Greek,  such  as 
"  Veronica'^  is  said  to  be. 

No.  6. 
Fortunatus  se  vivo ;  sibi  fecit 
ut  cum  quieverit  in  pacem,  in 
Christo  locum  paratum  ha(beat). 

There  is  nothing  remarkable  in  this  epitaph,  except  the 
proof  of  the  rude  execution  of  these  confessions  of  faith. 
In  the  original  slab  the  last  word  is  incomplete  evidentiy 
not  because  the  marble  was  broken  off,  T-^J^--- ^ 
original  engraver,  or  rather  scratcher  o  the  epitaph, 
knew  that  his  meaning  would  be  understood  though  unex- 

pressed. 

Ko.  7. 

This  is  an  epitaph  to  the  same  purpose  as  No.  4,  re- 
n^arkable  as  being  engraved  on  a  broken  fragment  of  a 
moulded  marble.  It  is  variously  interpreted  as  miplying 
"  a  prayer  that  the  dead  might  live  in  Chnst  or  an 
assSance  that  the  dead  should  Uvein  Christ  The  gr^- 
mar  would  favour  the  former  interpretation,  but  the  latter 


198  GLEAITIIJGS  AFTER  "  GEA^D  T0UE"-16T3. 

would  accord  better  ^.dtli  the  context,  which  seems  to  be 
correspondent  to  the  encouraging  word  of  our  Sa.Yiour  to 
Mary--"  Be  of  good  cheer,  thy  brother  shall  rise  again. 

No.  8. 

€V  KoKivb  :  'Sovev^.y 
€K0iixr]6r]  Vopyopiar 
Traai  (pikoa-  kqi  ovdevi 
rx^pocT. 

On  the  Kalends  of  November, 
Gorgonis  fell  asleep, 
The  friend  of  all  men, 
The  enemy  of  no  one. 

This  is  one  of  many  Catacoml)  inscriptions,  proving  bow 
soon  and  thoroughly  the  Christians,  through  the  days  of 
persecution  and  danger,  could  still  realise  the  spn-it  of 
that  gift  which  their  divine  Master  bronght  to  the  world, 
in  "peace  on  earth,  goodtvill  fotcards  men."    The  Vulgate 
renders  this  chorus  of  the  heavenly  host  in  a  narrowing 
and  seetarian  sense,  equally  inconsistent  with  the  "  te:ctus 
receptus"  of  Scripture  and  the  "mind  of  Chnst."    It  is 
very  clear  that  the  Catacomb  Christians,  though  driven  by 
their  persecutors  to  "  caves  and  dens  of  the  earth,"  biew 
no  limit  to  that  Catholic  spirit  of  "  goodwill"  which  was  m 
them  when  they  inscribed  their  last  memorials  thus—"  the 
friend  of  all,  the  enemy  of  none."    What,  not  even  of  the 
persecutor?    No-for  they  knew  the  voice  of  Him  who 
from  His  cross  spoke  thus-"  Father,  forgive  them,  they 

know  not  what  they  do." 

I  have  already   noticed  the   controversial  arguments 
derived  from  Catacomb  records,  and  I  cannot  conclude 


"  nOMA  SUBIEEEAHEA"-"  AD  CATACTIMBA8."        199 

without  caUing  attention  to  one  deduction  drawn  in  an 
lurd  little  work,  lately  published,  written  in  the  very 
.vorst  fairy-tale  style  of  "  did^tic  fiction^'  and  purporung 
to  be  a  description  of  "The  Church  of  the  Coombs.  The 
author  of  "Fabioia,"  whoever  he  may  6^ust  have  pre- 
sumed largely  on  the  ignorance  of  his  readers,  and  he. 
small  acquaintance  with  the  subject,  when  he  put  forth 
confidently  such  a  statement  as  the  following: 

.  WhUe  few  ancient  ChrUtian  '"f  Pf  "-"^^^  ^L^die^  ^S^. 
deaths,  thousands  sir.  us  the  -'^  ^"1°^ ''Z7^,/ZTtyTS  This  is 
m  the  hoperulness  of  ^^^^^:::^  ZZVllZ  ha'd  to  he  .ade 
rKXUlhefd:Xe,  ana  — e  — dge  of  this  was 
necessary,  therefore  it  alone  was  recorded. 

This  is  a  clear  case  of  the  application  to  a  serious  subject 
of  that  shifty  rule  of  sophistry  which  bids  a  man     affirm 
boldly,"  "  assume  confidently,"   and  "  take  chance  that 
throih   ignorance   or    oversight    of  an    opponent  the 
o^Lm  may  pass  current."     It  is  quite  true  that   he 
Catacomb  inscriptions  are  distinguished  for  pecu  larities 
of  date,  but  they  are  the  very  reverse  of  those  which  are 
here  so  confidently  asserted.     Thousands  of  them  do  give, 
with  minute  exactness,  the  length  of  life,  in  years,  months, 
days,  nay,  in  one  case  that  we  remember,  even  in  hours, 
that  the  departed  had  sojourned  on  earth ;  but  the  year  or 
day  of  month  of  the  decease  is  rarely  noticed.     The  consu- 
late in  which  saint  died,  or  martyr  suffered,  is  occasionaUy 
recorded,  but  the  date  by  ides,  nones,  or  kalends  very  sel- 
dom  indeed.    This  is  matter  of  fact  easily  P-^^-^d  by  refer- 
ence to  the  pages  of  "  Arringhi,"  "  Bosio,"  or  "  Boldetti. 


O 


/, 


I 


V   lVi4.o>*^  ^-t- 


200 


»> 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GRAND  TOUR   -ISTS. 


But  I  much  fear  the  author  of  "  Fabiola"  reckoned  that 
reference  to  these  works,  much  more  personal  inspection 
of  the  originals,  would  be  impossible  to  his  readers  in  ge- 
neral, and  therefore  ventured  to  deduce  from  o,  false  fact  a 
slyly  insinuated  argument  in  favour  of  the  endless  "  saints' 
days"  and  other  "  commemorations  of  Eoman  hagiology'* 

a  melancholy  proof  of  the  lengths  to  which  controversial 

zeal  maybe  carried  when  the  object  sought  is  not  so  much 
truth  as  victory  !  and  when  the  axiom  that  "  the  end  jus- 
tifies the  means"  is  adopted  into  controversial  morals. 


oi- 


Tl.    -  -  • 


o 


^ 


v^ 


e»p'5 


n 


HI 


4  7\  ^A  4^f  cir 


rf  Nr,A-tV3  f'^^L'J  *^''^\^  9^^""' 


W 


TLciT  5i^i    IN  CY^  ^ 

IN   cKY?  TA  r^o5  ^  y 


\l 


Yll 


nA^Ax^e)  J/vc^icen  ec^ 


\1II 


EOMAIS^  CHARITIES. 


201 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

EOMAN  CHAEITIES  :   "  SACT  MICHELE"—"  TEINITA  DEI 


PELLEGEINI. 

There  remained  but  two  days  of  our  allotted  time  in 

Rome,  when  A said  to  me,  «  Now  here  we  are,  about 

to  leave  this  great  city,  having  enjoyed  to  the  full^  its 
shows  and  its  sights,  its  amusements  and  antiquities ;  it  is 
a  shame  never  to  have  seen  any  of  its  great  charities. 
They  tell  me  there  are  many,  and  that  San  Mchele,  m 
particular,  is  a  noble  institution ;  let  us  pay  it  a  visit 
before  we  go."     To  this  I  agreed  at  once,  although  I 
could  not  quite  plead  guilty  to  not  having  seen  any  of 
their  charitable  institutions.    Had  we  not  been  once  and 
again  at  that  great  charity  the  "  Trinita  dei  Pellegrini  ?"— 
that  world-wide  Jiospitium  for  the  wayfarer  of  every  name 
and  nation  whom  piety  might  draw  to  the  Eternal  City,  and 
modest  poverty  render  unable  to  find  a  lodging  or  a  supper 
in  the  concourse  who  "  go  up  to  the  Eeasts  of  the  Holy 
Seasons;"  we  had  both  seen  and  smelled!  the  much- 
needed  foot-bath  relief,  there  rendered  to  the  travel-tired 


202  GLEANIJfGS  AFTEE  "  GBAND  XOTJe"-ISTS. 

and  leg-weary  wanderer,  followed  up  by  a  wholesome  sup- 
per, at  wWch  the  beggar  sat,  while  the  noble  served-a  re- 
markable exhibition  of  which  more  hereafter.  But  A-— 
miAt  not  unfairly  have  forgotten  to  number  this  institu- 
tion as  a  charity,  and  have  reckoned  it  among  our  amuse- 
ments, for,  during  Holy  Week,  a  visit  to  the  Tnmta 
del  Pellegrini"  is  the  fashionable  evening  lounge  and  its 
halls,  on  the  evenings  they  are  open,  furnish  the  most 
thronged  promenade  in  Kome. 

Curious  things  are  those  same  Eoman  charities-curious 
sometimes  in  their  origin,  not  less  so  in  their  objects  and 
application;   abundant  are  they  too  in  wealth  and  re- 
sources,  as  might  be  expected  in   a  community  where 
mortmc^in  restrictions  are  unknown-where  the  principle  is 
boldly  enunciated,  and  sedulously  taught,  that  posthumous 
liberality  can  atone  for  a  life  of  vice-and  where  the  mere 
nod  of  assent!  of  a  dying  sinner  to  the  proposition  of  his 
ghostly  father,  that  he  should  leave  "house,"   "land,     or 
"monies"  to  this  charity  or  that  convent-is  construed  by 
those  "  Daniels  come  to  judgment"-the  Soman  canonists 
of  the  Liguori  school-into  a  valid  bequest .•     ^  o  wonder 
that  under  such  stimulating  circumstances  Eoman  cha- 
rities  should  be  wealthy-no  wonder  they  can  be  lavish. 
I  remember  a  dignified  Eonian  ecclesiastic  givmg  me  the 

.  Shodd  a.y  one  doubt  that  such  could  be  the  S^^'i^^^^'^, 
recognised  interpretatiou  of  that^'—UwJwb.cho^ 
man's  sorrow,  does  not  prevail  m  England^  ne  wm  " 
remarkable  and  fearless  testimony  of  the  Rev.  ^-^-^^^^^'^l^^f'^  H'T^I 
Prout  of  Uterature),  given  before  tb^"  ^«™^~^^%td  '^^^^^ 
The  evidence  taken  is  well  worthy  of  a  perusal  as  a  whole,  a^^/>emS 
J^blilhfd  in  an  octavo  "blue  book,"  is  in  a  readable  form,  which  blue 
books  80  often  are  kot  ! 


EOMAN  CnAEITIES. 


203 


following  instance  of  their  profuse  liberality.    It  had  been 
represented  to  the  directors  of  a  certain  charity  that  a  poor 
noble  {^'povero,  mod  nobile'')  was  in  delicate  health,  and 
that  a  Bojoum  at  mples  would  be  of  service  to  him. 
Several    hundred    scudi   were    immediately  allotted    to 
convey  him  and  his  family  to  Bai®,  and  to  maintain  him 
there  for  some  months.     May  the  charities  of  our  country 
multiply  and  abound  in  manifold  measure,  but  may  it  be 
long  before  heretic  England  has  charities  applicable  to 
the^cases  of  broken-down  or  bankrupt  gentlemen  who  may 
wish  to  recruit  by  a  trip  to  a  watering-place,  or  a  sojourn 

at  a  fashionable  Spa  I 

Almost  the  first  animated  object  I  had  looked  on  in  the 
Eternal  City  was  a— charity!    Driving  in  from  Albano, 

whither  A (who  had  been  domiciled  in  Eome  from 

the  previous  winter)  had  gone  to  meet  and  welcome  us, 
we  encountered,  not  far  from  the  "  Eontana  di  Trevi,"  a 

procession;  and  when  A asked  me,  "Do  you  know 

what  that  is  ?"  I  was  unable  even  to  ffuess.     It  might 
have  been  a  Eoman  edition  of  a  Highgate  boarding- 
school,  such  as  one  sometimes  encounters  in  the  vicinity 
of  London,   when    "  twelve    double  files  of  Straitlaced 
humanity"  are  paraded  for  an  airing ;   but  the  Koman 
files  were  all  in  conventual  uniform,  while  a  free  air,  a 
bold  stare,  and  wild  roving  glances  cast  freely  aU  round, 
told  me  that  conventual  discipline  had  not  here  wrought 
that  mincing  demureness  in  which  the  cloistered  elh^e^ 
usually  walks,  with  "  leaden  eye  that  loves  the  ground." 
I  could  make  nothing  of  them— dressed  like  nuns,  they 
appeared,  as  the  phrase  is,  to  have  "very  little  of  nun's 
flesh  about  them"— they  seemed,  evidently,  rather  to 


204 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOtrE"-ISTS 


court  attention  than  to  shun  it.    "  These,"  said  A , 

<'  are  the  Sieves  of  a  charity  which  supplies  wives  to  many 
of  the  Eoman  shopkeepers  and  mechanics.     They  are 
foundlings,  maintained  and  portioned  by  the  institution 
which  brings  them  up,  and  they  are  walked  out  thus  that 
the  men  of  the  city  may  see  them,  and,  on  sight,  select 
wives  as  they  go  along.     Application  is  then  made  at  the 
institution  ;  negotiations,  carried  on  through  the  medium 
of  the  parish  clergy,  and  police,  foUow  in  course,  and  on 
due  certificate  of  various  matters  (among  the  rest,  that  the 
proposing  husband  is  a  good  subject,  and  has  been—*  duly 
vaccinated !')  numbers  are  married  in  Eome  who  have 
never  had  other  opportunities  of  judging  the  temper  or 
the  thrift,  the  principles  or  the  dispositions  of  each  other, 
except  such  casual  glances  and  glimpses  as  you  have 
just  seen  in  the  case  of  the  procession  which  has  passed 

us  by.'* 

Further  and  after  inquiries  informed  me  that  this  was 

but  one  of  a  number  of  "  Societe  di  dotazione''  which  so 

abound  in  Eome,  that,  according  to  statistical  calculations, 

more  than  three-fifths  of  the  annual  marriages  in  the  city 

take  place  under  the  stimulus  of  the  charity-dower  which 

the  bride  brings  to  her  husband.     It  may  seem  strange 

that  so  large  an  amount  of  charitable  endowment  should 

take  this  direction,  but,  when  traced  to  its  origin,  the 

"  marriage-portion  charity"  will  appear  more  remarkable 

still,  and  gives  a  horrid  glimpse  of  Eoman  morals  and  the 

social  condition  of  the  community.    I  can  state,  upon 

ecclesiastical  testimony,  that  these  charities  derive  their 

funds  very  largely  from  the  death-bed  terrors  of  dying 

profligates   and  sensualists,    goaded  by  conscience  and 


EOMAN  CHAEITIES. 


205 


urged  by  a  confessor  "  to  atone  for  the  seductions  of  their 
long  and  evil  lives  by  providing  a  portion-fund  for  young 
women  to  enable  them  to  get  married." 

To  the  same  source  are  traced  two  other  charities  of  so 
extraordinary  a  nature,  and  so  liable  to  perversion  and 
abuse,  that  their  very  names  are  a  standing  jest  for  the 
profane— these  are  the  charities  of  the  "  Vedovi  Fericli-^ 
tantV  and  the  '' Mai  MaritatV  ("  endangered  widows  I" 
and  "  ill-mated  wives !") .    There  exists  a  Board  in  Eome, 
before  whom  any  "  smart  disconsolate"  may  present  her- 
self, and  declare  that  her  poverty  places  her  chastity  in 
jeopardy,  that "  she  must  have  money,  or  else—"  quocumque 
modo  renC'^  and  the  Board  is  bound  to  supply  her  with 
means  to  live  respectably.    Again :  A  lady  living  uneasily 
with  her  spouse,  may  come  and,  by  a  statement  of  her 
grievances,    obtain   a   separate  maintenance   from   these 
sympathising   guardians   of  ''les  moeurs ^    but!— "^i^^> 
custodiet  ipsos  custodesr^ii  would  be  neither  fair  nor 
fitting  to  put  on  record  the  sneers  or  the  sarcasms  which 
are  freely  circulated  in  Eome  respecting  the  administration 
of  these  very  peculiar  institutions :  enough  to  say,  that 
a  universal  impression  prevails  that  they  often  aggravate 
the  very  evils  against  which  they  were  intended  to  be  safe- 

guards. 

Nor  do  the  "portioning"  charities  work  out  their  uses 
any  better.  It  might  be  supposed,  at  first  sight,  that 
societies  expending  many  thousand  pounds  per  annum  in 
dowering  young  maidens,  would  give  a  most  anti-Malthu- 
Bian  stimulus  to  "  entering  into  the  holy  and  honourable 
estate  of  matrimony"-no  such  thing  !-for  though  "  mar- 
riage  is  honourable,"  monachism  is  more  honourable  still, 


206  GLEANINGS  ATTEE  "  GBASD  T0UR"-ISIS. 

and  a  girl  wko  puts  iu  a  claim  to  an  -dowment   -d 
dfidarea  that  ahe  intends  to  devote  xt  and  herself  to  a 
convent,  is  sure  to  obtain  a  portion  m  Fef--- *;^- 
other  who  intends  to  bestow  it  on  a  husband  •    ^o  pro- 
vision, either  by  will  or  endo^-ment,  against  allowing  these 
tods  to  go  to  convent  uses,  can  hinder  it:  such  clauses 
Wd  be  set  aside  as  m,naral !    Hence,  by  a  strange  per- 
version,  the  very  funds  allocated  to  encourage  matrimony, 
are  turned  to  the  use  of  promoting  perpetual  celibacy; 
hence  one  in  twenty  of  aU  the  adult  female  popukt.on  of 
Rome  is  a  nun.     And  once  again,  to  speak  on  ecdeuasUcal 
te^tmonr,,  there  are  dark  and  revolting  ideas  abroad  that 
the  dispensers  of  these  funds  make  a  most  nefanous  use 
of  the  influence  they  give  them  over  the  candidates  for 
matrimony  ;  so  that  on  the  whole  the  result  ->  *<>  -f^' 
words  of  a  Koman  Catholic  witness  on  the  subject,     any- 
thing but  satisfactory  to  the  lovers  of  decency,  or  of  a  good 
and  wholesome  social  system  among  the  lower  orders  of 

the  community." 

roremost  among  Eoman  charities  stands  the     Santo 

Lates  thirty  scudi  if  she  purposes  gettrng  mamed,  m,dffty .  ekaum 
.e.M,.e.iilaiwaysh       a.^-e-^^^^^^^^^ 

:;t:h\ri7e.J,'th^^^^^^^^ 

Gunneries  do  receive  their  recruits  through  them^mm  "/'^"jj^ 
intended  for  matrin^y-'-Hortmoin  Report,  I80I.     Emdence  of  JUV 

F.  S.  ilahony,  2983. 


EOMAN  CHABITIES. 


207 


Spinto,"  the  estate  of  which  reaches  from  Civita  Vecchia 
to  Eom'e,  a  range  of  nearly  seventy  miles  !   The  soil  of  this 
estate  is  WTetchedly  farmed,  the  revenues  worse  appUed, 
nearly  half  its  funds  being  expended  on  what  are  called 
"charges   of  management"    {alias,  "jobbing"   in  all  its 
branches)  ;  and  of  the  t^vo  thousand  wards !  in  which  the 
vast  institution  could  relieve  misery,  under  the  divisions  of 
an  "  Infirmary,"  a  "  Foundling  Hospital,"  and  a  "  Lunatic 
Asylum,"  not  more  than  A«//are  ever  in  useful  operation! 
The  San  Spirito,  from  the  extent  of  its  possessions,  is 
called  "  II  Gran  Signore  di  Roma,"  and,  like  other  great 
leviathans  of  wealth,  is  proportlonably  a  subject  for  plun- 
der and  abuse  of  its  resources. 

"  Pio  NONO,"  following  in  the  steps  of  his  predecessor 
Dema  Genga  (Leo  XU.),  attempted,  among  his  other 
"  new  broom"  reforms,  to  sweep  away  the  incapable  pre- 
lates and  peculating  managers  who    preside    over   the 
Eoman  charities  in  detail.    The  reforming  Popes  tried 
successively  to  eentralke  the  management  of  these  msti- 
tutious,  and  to  establish  one  general  system  of  application 
of  funds,  in  which  all  the  vast  and  various  provisions  for 
the  relief  of  poverty  and  sickness  being  made  to  bear  a 
proporotinate  relation  to  each  other,  would  become  more 
effective  as  a  whole ;  but  they  failed  in  their  efforts ;  and 
while  the  failure  is  said  to  have  contributed  to  break  the 
heart  and  hasten  the  death  of  the  mild  and  amiable  Delia 
Genga-"  Pius  the  Reformer,"    sick  and  tured  of  the 
results  of  his  meddling  in  more  ways  than  one,  seems, 
since  his  restoration,  to  have  adopted  for  his  motto  «  c^e 
mra-sarar  and  aUows  things  to  "  take  their  old  course 
Jobbery  and   mismanagement    are   now   in   unchecked 


208  GLEiUINOS  AFTER  "  GBAND  T0UE"-1STS. 

ascendancy,  and  the  abortive  revolution  has,  among  its 

Xrtsl.  given  to  abuses  t^^ -Xfnwth t 
they  can  now  meet  all  attempts  at  improvement  with  the 
whisper  of  the  evils  of  rebellion!  and  the  danger,  not  of 
rSg  well  alone,"  but  of  "making  bad  worse;"  so  that 
in  its  clrities,  as  in  other  matters,*  the  unsustamed  out- 
bretk  of  1848  has  left  the  "  last  state  of  Eome  worse  than 

'"Vtdrove  to  San  Michele,  in  "Eipa  Grande,"  beyond 
;  the  Tiber,  and  on  seeking  admission,  found  that  we  had 
unwittingly  and  unluckily  timed  our  visit  for  a     Festa, 
rihat  aU  the  ordinary  exhibitions  of  the  great  building 
were  closed,  and  the  schools  idle.    This  was  a  disappoin  - 
„,ent :  we  could  not  spare  another  day  for  the  visit,  but  a 
1  object  was  rather  to  see  the  working  details  of    h 
charity  than  the  show-rooms  of  sculpture  or  design,  which 
a,e  the  general  attractions  to  visitors,  with  the  usual  in- 
trepidity of  the  "  Inglese,"  who  seem  to  clann  access  to 
all  things  sacred  and  profane  at  Eome  as  matter  of  course, 

as  a  b-ieged  people. ouldn.^^^^^^^^ 

the  grove,  and  coverts  "^  *;;^^:;,f;';,„i,,  „or  has  any  step  been 
gorgeous  gates  in  aU  their  unsignuy  •  ^  mistaken, 

yet  taken  towards  their  laying  out  or  «~°-  J  ^^y^  ^^^^^^^^.^ 
U  it  always  struck  me,  as  I-^^y^^fl^^rLlin  Eome,  that 
result  of  civil  war  from  the  Pinmn  the  most  pub  ^,. 

it  was  left  waste  and  ""'"""f  "^  f^^'^Sfpoint  to  the  Borgheee 

wavs  have  an  apt  argument  when  tney  comu  y 

^^i  and  say,  "  Tou  «e  M  tooJutto  and  I^er<rf«m  do . 


EOMAN  CHABITIES. 


209 


we  sent  in  our  cards,  with  a  petition  for  admission  as 
^^voyageurs  en  route,''  and  obtained  it. 

We  arrived  just  as  the  religious  services  of  tlie  morning 
were  concluded.     Some  relic  of  extraordinary  sanctity  had 
been  just  exposed  to  the  veneration  of  the  inmates,  for  the 
exhibition  of  which  a  showy  altar  had  been  erected  in  a 
long  hall,  or  gallery,  from  which  the  schools  and  show- 
rooms opened ;  and  though  the  relic  had  been  replaced  in 
its  reliquarium,  and  the  service  was  ended,  yet,  as  the 
be<ygar-boys  snuff  up  the  steam  of  some  great  London 
eatiug-house  as  a  regale,  so  we  came  in  for  the  smoke  and 
heavy  overpowering  odour  of  the  incense  which  still  per- 
vaded the  atmosphere  of  the  apartment.     As  we  were 
ushered  up  its  length,  we  could  see  through  the  open 
doors  the  spacious  but  deserted  class-rooms  at  either  side ; 
and  from  one  of  them,  at  the  upper  end,  we  heard  sounds 
anything  but  suited  to  the  solemnity  just  terminated — 
much  more  fitted  for  the  riot  of  the  play-room  of  an  infant 
school,  or  the  uproar  of  a  nursery,  than  anything  else — 
and  on  arriving  opposite  to  the  open  door  a  singular  sight 
presented  itself.     In  the  midst  of  a  number  of  children, 
struggling  and  screamiug  with  delight,  with  their  dark 
eyes  sparkling  out  of  their  intensely  Italian  faces,  and  a 
forest  of  little  hands  held  out  in  eager  expectation,  stood 
an  old  man  in  the  cap  and  robes  of  a — Cardinal !  his  hands 
fuU  of  presents  or  prizes,  I  could  not  tell  which,  and  his 
countenance  gleaming  with  good-natured  perplexity,  caused 
by  the  volleys  of  "  datemV  showered  on  him  from  all  sides. 
This  was  Cardinal  TosTi!    the  presiding  genius  of  the 
institution,  who  had  made  it  his  home,  his  hobby,  his  dio- 
cese, in  fact,  for  I  cannot  find  that  he  ever  held  the  over- 


210  GLEANINGS  AJTEB  «  GEAND  TOTJe"-ISTS. 

Bight  Of  any  other  *  It  was  to  him  that  the  hospital  owed 
the  impulse  which  gave  it  its  attraction  for  visitors,  though 
this  had  been  accompUshed,  as  it  would  seem   tyv  Aver- 
sion of  the  funds  from  their  original  uses,  which  had  been 
Tse  of  a  vast  "Foundling  Hospital"-aa  "Old  Man  s 
Asylum"-as  also  a  "House  of  Correction  for  JuvenUe 
O&nders."    Upon  this  Cardinal  Tosti  had  supermduced 
educational  and  industrial  departments,  which  seemed  to 
be  working  with  toleralle  success  for  Eome,  although  we 
suspect  that  a  "Manchester  man"  would  stare  ^i  the 
statistics  of  the  industrial  speculation,  in  respect  of   pro-^ 
duee  and  return,"   "per  contra"  to  "  capital  and  labour 
A  thousand  persons  employed  on  the  various  departments 
of  weaving,  spinning,  and  otherwise  proparmg  n^terial  for 
the  loom,  and  producing  annually  but  o»a  Uun^ed  yards 
of  textile  fabric  each,  would  present  but  a  shabby  balance- 
sheet  to  any  of  our  English  mill-ocrats;  but  then  to 
balance  the  account  must  be  estimated  a  certam  per- 
centage of  idle  daysfor/..^«.,  of  idle  hours  for  s^esta.,^^ 
all  the  other  items  of  that  "  doles  far  niente,    in  which 
the  Italian  delights,  but  under  which  the  Saxon  would 
g,ow  «  gummy,"-"  lumpish,"-and,  we  fear  it  must  be 
added,  beerhouse-ish  so  that  on  the  whole,  perhaps,  the 
balance-sheets,  as  they  stand,  suit  the  temperaments  and 
condition  of  the  two  people  better  than  if  they  were 

reversed.  .  .       f> 

Another  industrial  department,  suited  to  the  gemus  of 

the  pupas,  if  not  introduced,  at  least  made  effective  by 

the  good  Cardinal,  is  a  series  of  schools  for  music,  archi- 

tectL,  statuary,  drawing-in  wUch  we  could  perceive 

.  AM».aoh  de  Gotha.-"  Antonio  Tost^n.  4  Oct    1776,  h  Borne ; 

nomm^,  iop^tto,  12  Fev.,  1828;  pubU^  13  F^v.,  1839. 


EOMAN  CHAEITIES. 


211 


he  took  particular  pride  and  satisfaction.  To  persons 
"  fed  to  the  full"  for  months  past  on  the  treasures  of 
ancient  art  in  the  galleries  of  the  Vatican,  the  Capitol, 
and  the  Roman  palaces,  the  productions  which  hung  on 
the  walls,  or  stood  in  the  studios  of  San  Michele,  could 
have  no  other  attractions  than  those  of  other  schoolboy- 
productions,  usually  praised  as  "wonderful,  considering ^ 
But,  to  carry  on  the  idea,  I  question  if  the  most  blindly- 
doting  mamma  in  the  world  could  feel  more  pride  in  the 
performances  of  her  infant  prodigy  than  did  the  good  old 
Cardinal  in  the  works  of  his  eleves,  as  he  directed  our  atten- 
tion to  them  in  walking  up  and  down  his  saloon ;  and,  in- 
deed, our  first  view  of  him  in  the  midst  of  his  little  "  sub- 
jects," when  he  looked  not  very  unlike  a  good,  kind,  mo- 
therly old  nurse  in  the  midst  of  a  nursery  uproar,  has  left 
us  a  more  natural  and  pleasing  recollection  than  if  he  had 
received  us  with  the  state  of  a  Prince  of  the  Church, 
seated  in  all  the  canopied  pride  of  "the  purple." 

We  were  ushered  through  a  door  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  hall  into  a  noble  saloon,  richly  fitted  up  for  the  Car- 
dinal's use  as  a  reception-room  for  guests,  beneath  the 
windows  of  which  the  yellow  Tiber  rolled  on  its  way  from 
"the  marble  wilderness"  towards  the  sea,  and  Mount 
Aventine  rose  beyond  in  its  desolation,  of  all  the  "  Seven 
Hills"  perhaps  the  fittest*  emblem  of  "  the  Niobe  of  ISTa- 

*  Some  may  think  the  "  Palatine  crowned  with  the  Palace  of  the 
Caesars"  more  emblematic  of  the  desolation  of  the  Imperial  City;  but, 
among  these  "  chief  relics  of  Imperial  Rome"  is  nestled,  smig  and  pert, 
a  "  villa,"  belonging  to  an  Englishman,  yclept  "Mills!"  "The  Villa 
Mills!"  What  romance  or  recollection  of  antiquity  could  stand  such  an 
association?  With  Byron  we  could  say,  "  Arise,  ye  Goths,  again,  and  glut 
your  iVe"— in  other  words,  level  the  Villa  Mills  to  the  ground !        ^^  rC^  JQ 

^2  (:^^       THfiCLC:: 


V 


A'  .V 


w  Yot^i; 


y 


212  GLEANINGS  AETEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 

tlons"  "childless,"  «  crownless,"  "  voiceless."    In  a  few 
,i,inutes  the  Cardiual  entered  by  a  door  from  the  room  m 
which  we  had  gotten  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  received  our 
respects,  accompanied  by  our  stammered  apologies  for  the 
intrusion,  to  the  effect  that  we  were  leaving  Eome,  and  did 
not  wish  to  do  so  without  being  able  to  take  some  report 
of  a  charity  become  famous  under  the  direction  of    his 
Eminence."    Having  delivered  our  blundered  explaiiation 
in  French,  an  unexpected  difficulty  arose :  the  cardinal,  a 
"bomEoman,"  was  all  that  and  nothing  more.    It  the 
proverb  be  true  which  says,  "  so  many  languages,  so  many 
times  a  man,"  his  Eminence  was  perfectly  individualised, 
for  he  knew  nothing  but  Italian ;  and  after  some  deUbera- 
tion,  requested  us  to  wait  until  he  sent  for  one  of  the 
officers  of  the  institution  who  could  speak  French,  to 
whose  guidance  he  ultimately  consigned  us. 

As  we  waited,  his  Eminence  was  so  kind  as  to  wa  k 
with  us  up  and  do^vn  the  saloon,  pointing  out  occasionally 
some  drawmg  or  engraving  done  by  the  Sieves  of  the 
schools,  and  bearing  mildly  and  patiently  with  our  at- 
tempts  to  reply  to  the  observations  in  the  best  Itahan  we 
could  muster.    Here  a  ludicrous  mistake  occurred ;  among 
other  information  given  to  us,  the  Cardinal  said  that  one  of 
the  pupils  was  then  engaged  on  a  fine  piece,  "  un  lavoro  d. 
lellezza"  (a  « thing  of  beauty"),  the  subject  of  which  was 
"  La  Siqnora  Grey,  una  Inglese" 

Here  A touched  my  arm.    «  Tes,  yes,  teU  him  you 

understand-Mrs.  Hamilton  Gray,  you  know,  who  wrote 
the  work  on  Etruria '."  ^^ 

So  I  boldly  dashed  out  with  "  lo  comprendo,  Eminenza  — 
and  then  I  added  something  about  Mrs.  Gray's  book  and 


eo:m:ak  cuaeities. 


213 


Etruria ;  but  his  Eminence  did  not  "  compreliend"  at  all  !— 
we  were  evidently  at  cross-purposes— and  at  last  lie  told 
me,  in  the  way  of  elucidation,  that  "  Ms  '  Siqnora  Grey' 
wanted  to  he  queen  of  JEngland!  " 

Worse  andAvorse !  This  sent  me  to  sea  without  rudder 
or  compass  to  find  out  who  or  what  the  good  Cardinal  could 
mean.  I  thought  over  all  the  Mrs.  Greys  or  Grays  I  had 
ever  heard  of.  Could  it  be  an  Italian  travestie  of  the 
clamour  about  the  ambition  and  grasping  of  the  "  Grey 
family,'*  which  used  to  be  a  popular  theme  in  the 
old  days  of  the  "  Eeform  Bill  ?"  No,  it  could  be  nothing 
of  tJiat;  but  having  once  gotten  on  the  political  scent,  I 
ran  rapidly  back  to  the  days  of  "Lady  Jane  Grey"  and 
"bloody  Mary!"  (but  I  did  not  call  her  "bloody  Mary, 
tJiere  and  then'').  Tes,  I  was  right  now ;  the  picture  in 
progress  was  "  la  decapitazione  di  quella  Signora  GreyP 

Presently  arrived  the  young  man  qualified  to  communi- 
cate with  us  in  French  ;  to  his  charge  the  Cardinal  civilly 
consigned  us,  and  we  left  his  presence  with  a  pleasing  im- 
pression of  one  of  those  benevolent  natures  whose  mission 
it  seemed  to  be  to  devote  itself  with  enthusiasm  to  one 
object— a  low  one,  perhaps,  in  the  eyes  of  more  "  mount- 
ing" spirits,  yet  not  without  its  value  and  importance 
in  the  scale  of  Him  to  whom  "  nothing  is  little,  nothing 
great."  No  doubt  "  Antonelli,"  with  his  master-mind,  or 
*' Mezzofanti,"  or  "Mai,"  with  their  polyglot  learning, 
might  look  pityingly  on  the  bounded  ambition  with  which 
their  brother  Cardinal  ruled  his  Httle  child-world  of  San 
Michele,  and  never  looked  beyond.  Tet  it  remains  to  be 
decided,  in  the  day  of  "  righteous  judgment,"  whether  the 
Bimple-mindedTostimay  not, "  in  Us  generation;'  have  dif- 


214  GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GKAHD  TOUE   -ISIS. 

fused  more  happiness,  and  done  more  good,  "than  more 
lofty  and  mounting  spirits  who,"  from  the  toil-won  heights 
of  amhition  or  learning,  "smHed  superior"  at  his  humble 
and  unpretending  pursuits* 

We  had  some  difficulty  in  making  our  Franco-Italian 
cicerone  understand  that  what  we  wanted  to  see  were  the 
worUng  detaUs  of  the  institution.    It  would  seem  that 
visitors  seldom  did  more  than  saunter  through  the  halls  of 
sculpture  and  painting ;  and  there  was  none  of  that  proud 
alacrity  with  which  the  officers  of  English  charities  parade 
visitors  through  vast  edifices,  as  clean  and  orderly  from 
garret  to  laundry  as  system  and  scrubbing-brush  can  make 
them.     Our  guide   seemed  quite  perplexed  as  to  what 
our  object  could  be  in  mounting  to  the  dormitories  of  the 
young,  or  diving  into  the  lower  regions  to  inspect  the 
dinner  preparing  for  the  older  inmates  of  the  hospital. 
However,  there  was  no  objection  made ;  there  was  some 
surprise,  but  evidently  no  shame  or  other  sense,  of  the 
'nakedness  of  the  land"  to  be  submitted  to  our  inspec- 
tion ;  so  accordingly  we  were  ushered  through  passages  and 
up  stairs,  which  seemed  "  immeasurably  spread,"  but  at 
last  led  us  into  long  ranges  of  dormitories,  decidedly  dirty 

•  WWle  writing  this  passage,  I  lighted  accidentally  on  the  not  inap- 
plicable stanza  in  which  Dr.  Johnson  eulogises  the  unpretendmg  virtues 
of  his  strange  i)ro%e,  Dr.  Levett : 

"  His  virtues  walked  their  narrow  round, 
Nor  made  a  pause— nor  left  a  void ; 
And  sure  the  Eternal  Master  found 
The  '  single  talent'  well  employed." 

This  is  pr^use  which  may  equaUy  apply  to  the  unostentatious  benevo- 
lence with  which  o»e  Roman  Cardinal  regulated  his  U"'*/"'^!'!  ."  *^« 
midst  of  that  meshwork  of  political  intrigue,  jealousy,  and-as  scandal 
adds— profligacy,  which  pervades  the  Court  of  Rome. 


bo:m:an  chaeities. 


215 


and  dreadfully  close,  with  no  attention  to  that  ventilation 
which  in  our  cUmate  we  consider  essential  to  health,— how 
much  more  so  in  the  exhausting  atmosphere  of  Italy.  The 
floors  were  of  a  dingy  colour,  showing  a  decided  tendency 
to  hydroploUa,  and  aU  the  fittings-up  were  of  the  coarsest 
and  commonest  character ;  it  was  quite  clear  that  the  cares 
and  attention  of  the  managers  were  mainly  bestowed  on 
the  show,  specimen,  and  class-rooms,  below.    We  could 
get  no  statistics  whatever  as  to  the  effect  on  health  and 
life  of  thus  placing  young  children  to  sleep  close  under  tie 
roof  in  the  burning  atmosphere  of  Italy ;  nor  could  we  see 
any  of  the  little  things  themselves,  so  as  to  form  a  judg- 
ment on  their  appearance.    Wliether  they  were  engaged 
in  the  devotions  of  the  "  Festa,"    or  dispersed  to  see 
friends,  or  enjoy  the  free  air  of  the  country,  certam  it  is 
that  we  saw  scarce  an  individual  of  a  vast  institution  con- 
sisting, we  were  told,  of  several  thousand  inmates. 

TtoL  the  dormitories  we  made  our  way  to  the  kitchens, 
and  eugh  !-long  before  we  reached  them,  the  garlico- 
fennel  atmosphere  prepared  us  for  the  frousy  filth  of  the 
culinary  preparations,  in  which  we  found  half  a  dozen  old 
men  engaged.  As  they  handled  the  strong-smeUing  escu- 
lents  I  could  not  but  think  of  that  "  counter-blast  against 
garlic  "  in  which  the  refined  Horace,  espressmg  his  de- 
testation to  the  elegant  M^cenas,  affirms  that  a  garlic 
supper  would  be  a  meet  preparation  for  cutting  a  father  s 
throat!*    If  there  be  any  truth  in  the  suggestion,  every 

.  We  went  to  Italy  with  minds  braced  up  to  wage  a  defensive  war 

we  went  lo  '^^'  „jier  for  a  meal  with  a  prohibi- 

against  garlic,  and  to  a«o°'P»^^™Y„l  to  sav  we  found  aU  this  pre- 

tion  against  ito  ^^^'^^^'^^^^^^^Z^^T^Z'^''^  »— ^^^  ^  *"' 
caution  needless.    The    ^^^J^J  „^^„  .^^n  proffered  to  you 

:r';rjfr;;:irw!bS:^;:::ehorridde.nationaiisedKngiish- 


EOMAK  ClIAEITIES. 


217 


216  GLEANINGS  AETEE  "  GBAND  TOTJE   -ISTS. 

one  of  the  wretches  before  me  must  have  been  capable  of 
sacrilege,  parricide,  or  any  other  nameless  atrocity— for 
they  reeked  of  garlic  from  head  to  foot.  We  felt  none  of 
that  appetising  desire  to  taste  the  poor  men's  food  which  is 
so  often  excited  by  the  savoury  smell  of  a  charity-kitchen 

in  England. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  ended  our  visit  with  a  conviction 
that  though  we  had  not  seen  this  the  boasted  charity  of 

man  sometimes  does.  When  Horace  wrote  his  ^^detestatur  allium^  he 
almost  deserved  to  be  an  Englishman ;  in  hearty  English  approval  I  render 
it  thus : 

AD  BLECEKATEM. 

»'  Detestatur  allium,  quod  apud 
Msecenatem  ederat." — Hob.  Epode^  iii. 

If  ever  son  with  impious  hand 

To  cut  his  father's  throat  inclined, 
The  parricidal  deed  was  plann'd 

Some  day  the  wretch  on  garlic  dined. 

For  ploughman's  stomach  one  could  wish : 
Sure  viper's  blood,  or  poison'd  trash. 

Was  mixed  unnoticed  in  the  dish, 

Or  else  some  witch  prepared  the  hash ! 

With  some  such  stuff,  Medaea,  full 
Of  love,  her  Argonaut  besmearing, 

Gave  him  to  tame  each  raging  bull— 
This  too  she  used  when  disappearing. 

From  Jason's  rage  on  dragon's  wing 

She  sent  his  harlot  fatal  gift : 
Vengeance  could  find  no  deadlier  sting 

Than  in  a  ^rarZic-poisoned  shift. 

McU-aria  on  Apulian  plains, 

Or  torture  shirt  Alcides  wore, 
Ne'er  burned  more  hotly  than  the  pams 

I  feel,  from  garlic  supper  sore. 

Should  you  again  on  mess  like  this 

Venture,  Maecenas,  then  I  pray 
Your  girl  may  shun  your  proffered  kiss, 

And  lie  the  whole  couch-breadth  away. 


Eome  in  working  order,  BtiU  we  had  seen  enough  to  war- 
rant  us  in  adopting  the  conclusion  of  Albert  Smith  s  m- 
comparable  friend,  the  stoker  on  Lago  Maggiore,  when 
after  smoking  in  silence  for  half  an  hour,  he  bursts  forth 
^ith    "No  sir!  Austriar  ainH  England!"  and  '  whatts 
more,  we'll  live  to  see  the  day  when  it  worCt  never  he  Eng- 
land  "     So  I  affirm  that  "  Boman  charities  ainH  English 
ones;"  and  it  will  take  a  long  period  of  time  before  they 
TviU  bear  anything  like  a  reasonable  comparison  to  «  that 
quiet,  undemonstrative  effect  with  which  England  makes 
her  charities  tell  upon  her  social  state  and  interests." 

The  "  Symlolic  Layanda"  of  the  Head  of  the  Boman 
Church  has  already  been  treated  in  these  chapters ;  we  are 
now  to  consider  the  less  showy,  but  more  actualised,  foot- 
washing  which  is  carried  on  during  Holy  Week,  and,  a^  we 
believe,  at  other  high  festivals  in  Eome.  The  charity  of  the 
pilgrims  at  the  great  hospital  of  the  "  Trinita  dei  Pelle- 
grini" affords  the  Boman  noble  and  the  foreign  pilgrim  of 
rank  an  occasion  for  emulating  the  humiliation  of  hia 
Holiness  by  acts  of  real  service  to  the  poor  and  the  needy. 
•We  believe  the  Fraternities  of  St.  Philip  Neri  comprehend 
associates  of  all  grades  and  classes  ;  but  one  most  remarks 
the  polished  boot,  or  the  silk  dress,  peeping  through  the 
dingy  red  cloak  which  the  members  assume  when  they 
enter  the  hospital  and  prepare  for  the  labours  of  the 
evening.     "  The  Trinita"  is,  I  imagine,  in  its  ordinary 
use    a  great  convalescent  receiving-house  to  the  other 
hospitals  of  the  city,  but  at  the  Holy  Season  it  is  appro- 
priated  and  thrown  open  to  the  houseless  pilgrim,  who, 
coming  up  tired  and  travel-worn  to  the  great  city,  finds 
here  «  water  for  his  feet,  and  a  plain  but  plenti&l  supper 
for  his  hunger,"  and,  I  believe,  for  a  certain  period,  a 


218  GLEANINGS  AMEE  "  GEAND  TOtru"-ISTS. 

bed  for  his  weariness ;  after  .vhich  he  is  dismissed  to 
make  room  for  others,  should  the  concourse  require  it, 
otherwise  he  remains  until  the  Holy  Season  is  ended. 
This  use  of  the  institution  traces  its  origin  to  the  zeal 
of  St.  Philip  Neri,  who,  in  those  palmy  days  of  Eoman 
piety,  when  pilgrims  used  to  stream  up  from  all  parts 
of  the   earth  to  the   Seven    Hills,   saw  and  pitied  the 
condition  of  the  houseless  wanderer,  and  in  his  zeal  and 
energy  the  relief  of  the  "Trinita"  was  commenced;  by 
degrees  it  became  a  fashion  to  enrol  oneself  in  the  society ; 
and  now,  to  kneel  before  a  foot-bath  and  unrol  the  mummy- 
like swathes  which  are  the  Italian  substitute  for  hosiery, 
has  been  long  one  of  the  established  modes  in  which  the 
Eoman  nobles  evince  their  humility,  and,  in  scrubbing 
others,  wash  out,  as  they  suppose,  their  own  offences  also. 
The  sexes  are  lodged  separately.    Tou  can  only  know 
of  the  female  department  by  description,  for  the  clamura 
is  very  strict  on  each  side  of  the  hospital.    On  the  Wed- 
nesday night  of  the  Holy  Week  I  followed  the  stream  of 
visitors  into  the  male  side  of  the  Trinita,  and  presently 
found  myself  traversing  several  large  haUs  or  chambers, 
lined  with  high  seats  all  round,  before  which  stood  a 
number  of  vessels  opposite  to  as  many  cocks  for  laying  on 
the  hot  water.    A  hand-rail  kept  off  the  crowd  m  the 
centre  of  the  room  from  the  associates  while  doing  their 
office.    The  whole  fitting  up  had  a  homely  practical  ap- 
pearance, reminding  one  somewhat  of  the  laundry-rooms  of 
some  great  pubUc  institution  in  England. 

Before  the  business  of  the  evening  commenced,  the 
brotherhood  of  St.  Philip  were  mingUng  freely  in  the 
crowd,  only  distinguished  by  a  linen  robe  of  a  dull  red 
colour,  worn  loosely  over  their  ordinary  attire ;  whether 


EOMAN  CHAKITIES. 


219 


they  wished  to  show  that  they  merely  assumed  these 
dresses  for  the  occasion  I  know  not,  but  there  seemed 
little  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact  that  many  of  them  were 
seculars  and  gentlemen  masquerading  in  the  dress  of  a 

religious  order. 

The  pilgrims  had  not  yet  made  their  appearance,  or 
taken  their  seats;  and  as  I  walked  about,  my  attention 
was  caught  by  an  oval  picture,  the  only  thing  approaching 
to  ornament  which  the  bare  and  cheerless  rooms  showed: 
it  was  a  painting  dark  from  age,  and  contained  merely  an 
ordinary-visaged  portrait.     Perceiving  a  legend  under- 
neath  I  stopped  to  take  a  lesson  in  Italian,  by  attempting 
to  read  it.     It  proved  to  be  a  portrait  of  the  founder  of 
the  institute,  St.  Philip  himself;  and  the  legend  informed 
us  that  this  saint,  while  living,  would  never,  m  his  pro- 
found humility,  allow  his  likeness  to  be  taken.     It  hap- 
pened, however,  that  one  of  the  miserables  reUeved  m  hia 
hospital  was  a  profligate  painter,  who,  reduced  to  the 
lowest  beggary  and  misery,  ultimately  became  his  pern- 
tent   and  as  the  good  saint  often  repaired  to  his  chamber 
to  counsel  and  instruct  him,  in  this  chamber  was  a  small 
deal  table,  of  which  the  painter,  having  no  other  board  of 
canvas,  made  use  to  take  a  Hkeness  of  his  benefactor, 
drawn  "eon  amore."    This,  however,  was  done  at  inter- 
vals and  by  stealth,  and  the  picture  was  nearly  completed, 
when  Saint  Philip,  having  discovered  it,  merely  gave  the 
artist  the  mild  rebuke,  «  Tou  should  not  have  stohnme  un- 
awares.'" , 

As  I  read  this  anecdote,  feeling  perplexed  as  to  the 
meaning  of  one  word,  I  turned  to  a  brother  of  the  order 
who  leaned  against  the  rail  at  my  side,  and,  as  well  as  I 
could,  asked  him  to  explain  it  to  me.    To  my  surprise. 


220  GLEANINGS  AriEB  "  OBiND  T0IIb"-IST3. 

and  I  will  add  dismay,  after  stuttering  out  my  inquiry  in 
the  best  Italian  I  could  command,  I  received  the  reply  in 
plain   I  would  almost  say  smart.  Cockney  English  !    The 
assistant  of  St.  Philip  Neri  was  an  Englishman-one  of 
those  poor  creatures  who  have  deliberately  walked  out  of 
Ught  and  Hberty  into  twilight  bondage.    I  thanked  him 
for  the  explanation  which  he  gave  me,  but  I  would  have 
been  much  better  pleased  if  it  had  not  been  quite  so  intel- 
ligible    I  had  seen  some  English  in  positions  of  strange 
abasement  at  Eome,  but  I  was  not  prepared  to  find  one 
masquerading  it  in  the  shampooing  establishment  of  the 
"  Trinita  del  Pellegrini." 

By  this  time  the  pilgrims  began  to  stream  in,  and  take 
their  places  on  the  high  seats  behind  the  rails.    After 
some   confusion  they  were  all  arranged.     On  the  floor 
below  stood  all  the  brotherhood  present,  in  the  proportion 
of  about  one  to  every  four ;  their  foot-baths  were  ready, 
and  after  a  few  words  of  benediction,  at  a  signal  the  hot 
water  was  laid  on,  and  presently  a  steam-cloud  rose,  and 
treated  the  spectators  with  a  vapour-bath  gratis.     I  kept 
close  to  my  English  friend,  who  set  about  his  business 
most  artistically,  and  showed  himself  in  conclusion  as 
perfect  an  adept  as  if  he  had  been  apprenticed  to  a  washer- 
woman ;  in  fact,  in  the  fervour  of  his  neophyte  zeal,  he 
outdid  the  Eomans  themselves,  and  washed  three  sets  of 
dirty  feet  for  any  two  of  his  brethren  that  I  saw. 

The  process  began  by  something  which  proved  the 
severity  of  the  penance  in  a  much  stronger  Ught— I  mean 
wenf-thon  I  was  prepared  for  or  had  previously  con- 
ceived. The  first  duty  of  the  brother  of  St.  Philip,  after 
takin.'  from  the  wayfarer  some  paper,  which  is,  I  imagine, 
a  certificate  that  he  is  a  "pilgrim  indeed,"  is  something 


EOMAN  CHAEITIES. 


221 


analogous  to  unrolling  a  mummy.    It  must  not  be  sup- 
posed  that  tlie  Eoman  pilgrim  wears  a  stocking,  either 
cotton   or  woollen ;  no  such  thing,   the  defence  of  his 
nether  parts  is  much  more  curious  and  complicated  than  a 
textne  fabric  which  can  he  drawn  off  over  heel ;  it  con- 
sists,  in  fact,  of  a  contmuous  bandage  of  linen  of  great 
length,  wound  fold  after  fold  diagonally  up  the  leg,  and 
fastened  by  sandals  reaching  to  the  knee,  and  tied  to  the 
points  of  the  dress  there.     This  covering  is,  I  am  told, 
worn  night  and  day  until  worn  out!-and  what  between 
travel-stains,  the  natural  heat  of  the  body  and  of  the 
climate,  and  all  the  other  accessories  of  nastiness,  the 
mere  preliminary  removal  of  these  wrappings  was,  to  my 
feelings,  the  most  trying  part  of  the  whole  process.    As  I 
waited  the  conclusion  of  the  feet-washing,  I  could  not  help 
contrasting  that  principle  of  Methodism  expounded  by 
John  Wesley,  when  he  affirmed  "  cleanliness  to  be  a  virtue 
next  to  godliness,"  with  a  monastic  axiom  I  had  some- 
where met,  declaring  that 

"  dirt  at  Kome  is  a  symptom  unerring  of  grace ;" 
and  as  I  leaned  over  my  compatriot,  earnestly  engaged  in 
unswathing  his  first  suhject,  I  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  his  occupation  ought  to  be  very  meritorious,  for  it  was 

awfully  nasty ! 

There  was  certainly  something  repaying  to  the  operator 
in  the  sigh  of  delight  with  which  the  old  pilgrims  received 
the  first  refreshing  sensation  of  the  warm  water  on  their 
swollen  and  fevered  limbs ;  but  then  the  sense  of  show  and 
scenic  exhibition  presently  came  in.  Of  all  things  m  pro- 
fusion  at  Eome,  water  seems  to  run  most  to  waste.  Why 
need  these  wretched  pilgrims  have  waited  to  refresh  their 
ravel-worn  feet  until  the  reHef  could  be  so  ministered  as  to 


222 


»j 


BOMAN  CHAEITIE3. 


223 


GLEANINGS  ATTEE  "  GBAKD  TOUR    -ISTS. 


be  "  seen  of  men  ?"  I  wonder,  if  a  pilgrim  ventured  to  pre- 
sent himself  for  admission  to  the  charity  with  his  feet  in  a 
state  of  irreligious  cleanliness,  whether  he  would  be  turned 
away  as  an  "  impostor"  and  a  "  sham  ?"  I  had  half  a  mind 
to  ask  my  English  friend  to  explain  to  me  the  exact  ratio  be- 
tween dirt  and  deserving ;  but  he  seemed  so  busy  in  strip- 
ping and  scrubbing  the  subjects  before  him,  that  I  feared 
my  question  might  be  Hl-timed,  and  that  he  would^set  me 
down  as  an  "  inveterate  heathen  man  and  pubHcan." 

The  washing  ended,  there  was  an  adjournment  up-stairs 
to  supper,  which  was  laid  and  laying  out  in  a  long  hall, 
with  a  row  of  tables  at  each  side,  while  the  spectators 
streamed  along  through  the  middle  space.    Here  we  found 
others  of  the  brotherhood,  on  "hospitable  cares  intent,'' 
carefully  and  exactly  apportioning  the  supper  for  each  of 
those  washed  below.    The  supper  consisted  of  a  smaU  fish, 
an  aUowance  of  bread  and  butter,  and  some  vegetable— 
either  lettuce  or  fennel-root,  or  both— with  a  vessel  of  the 
thin  sub-acid  wine  of  the  country  beside  each  plate.    Great 
care  appeared  to  be  used  to  make  each  man's  portion  equal 
—doubtless  to  obviate  the  "  murmuring,"  as  old  as  the 
days  of  the  Apostles,  about  "neglect  in  the  daily  minis- 
tration."    I  saw  men  with  fine  linen  and  other  marks  of 
distinction  peeping  from  under  their  red  dresses,  looking 
sharply  after  a  plate  which  appeared  to  have  a  fragment 
too  much  of  the  viands,  and  thriftily  removing  the  excess 
to  another  plate  which  seemed  to  have  too  little.     On  the 
whole,  there  appeared  great  impartiality  in  the  distribution 
of  this  homely  supper ;   and  when  the  poor  old  feUows 
thronged  up,  sat  down,  and  "fell-to,"  it  appeared  to  me 
that  those  who  served  the  tables  seemed  to  enjoy  the  feast 
"s  much  as  "  those  who  sat  at  meat." 


Whether  from  want  of  appetite,  bashfulness,  or  dislike 
to  eat  under  the  gaze  of  assembled  crowds,  some  of  the 
old  men  desisted  soon,  and  there  was  something  hearty  and 
host-like  in  the  way  in  which  the  brotherhood  pressed  their 
guests  to  fall-to  again,  and  when  they  could  not  prevail,  in 
a  coarse  but  kindly  way  cut  open  the  wedge  of  bread,  and 
wrapping  fish,  fennel,  and  butter  all  togetlier  in  the  middle  ! 
desired  the  old  man  who  could  not  consume  his  aUowance 
upon  the  spot,  to  take  it  away  for  a  more  hungry  hour. 
It  was  the  converse  of  the  old  precept—"  eat  enough, 

pocket  none." 

Whether  that  the  concourse  of  pilgrims  was  below  the 
usual  average,  or  that  the  hospital  is  constructed  so  as  to 
provide  for  any  possible  amount  of  demand,  not  one-half 
of  the  supper-tables  were  occupied.  That  the  resources  of 
the  charity  are  abundant  seems  probable,  from  the  long 
ranges  of  boards  with  wHch  the  supper-haU  was  hung  all 
rou^d,  recording  the  munificence  of  a  long  list  of  donors, 
some  of  money,  some  of  houses  or  farms,  to  maintain  the 
hospitality  of  the  Pellegrini. 

Of  the  female  side  of  the  house  I  can  tell  nothing  save 
by  report.  Whether  the  pHgrim  old  women  be  as  much 
in  need  of  the  lavanda  as  the  male  pHgrims,  I  cannot 
affirm ;  but,  judging  of  what  I  saw  of  ItaHan  habits  when 
the  females  arrive  at  that  stage  of  existence  in  which  they 
as  matter  of  course  wither  into  living  mummies,  I  think  it 
probable  that,  as  between  them  and  their  male  neighbours 
of  the  hospital,  we  might  apply  the  retort,  more  lively 
than  delicate,  with  which  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague 
met  the  reproach  of  having  dirty  hands-"  ^/  mort^ienr 
si  vous  voyiez  mes  pieds  r  I  saw  the  purification  of  the 
men— I  did  not  see  that  of  the  old  women. 


224 


GLEANINGS  AEIEB  "  GBAND  X0na"-ISI3. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  PASSAGE  IN  THE  LIFE  OE  THE  LATE  CZAK. 

The  Czar  Nicholas  is  with  the  past  !-He  died  in  his 
harness  fuU  Kingly-He  ^v^ought  to  the  end  m  his 
mission  as  the  Antocrat  of  that  vast  empire  which  he 
sought  to  aggrandise  in  defiance  of  the  "woe'  denounced 
agafnst  those  (whether  "  Kaisers"  or  misers)  who     jom 
field  to  field"-"  till  there  he  no  place  left"  (for  others), 
«and  they  be  placed  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  earth 
(Isaiah  V.)      men  History  comes  to  pass  the  race  o 
Eomanoff  in  review,  then  will  Nicholas  stand  out  m  bold 
relief  as  the  developed  embodiment  of  the  plans  of  Peter 
-of  the  cupidity  of  Catherine-some  would  say  ot  the 
madness  of  Paul.     Future  generations  will  see  m  lum  the 
personification  of  Eussian  craft,  diplomacy,  and   ambi- 
tion, all  ripened  to  the  point  of-aggression  and,  let  us 
hope,  corresponding  repression. 

Conjecture  has  been  busy  as  to  the  real  canse  of  the 
Emperor's  death :  it  has  been  blundering  about  secondary 
and  forgetting  the  primary  cause.  Influenza  has  been 
talked  of-a  Dr.  GranviUe,  with  the  felicity  of  a  «  Murphy  s 


A  PASSAGE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  LATE  CZAR.         225 

Almanack,"  had  fixed  both  a  disease  and  a  date  which 
must  be  fatal  to  Nicholas :  he  made  a  lucky  hit  as  to  one 

he  was  wide  of  the  mark  as  to  the  other.     We  have 

little  doubt  that  on  full  view  of  the  whole  case,  and  when 
we  stand  far  enough  off  to  examine  all  its  bearings,  it  will 
be  admitted  as  an  established  fact  that  the  Czar  died  of— 
overstretching  himself! 

Nicholas's  length  of  limb  was  well  known,  and  sym- 
holised  well  that  towering  ambition  which  "  bestrid  this 
narrow  world  like  a  colossus."  The  great  feat  for  which 
this  royal  giant  had  laid  his  plans,  piled  his  fortifications, 
and  girded  all  his  energies,  was  to  stretch  "  from  sea  to 
sea,"  to  plant  one  foot  at  Bomarsund,  another  at  the  Bos- 
phorus,  and  to  rule  all  between,  either  by  himself  or  his 
royal  proconsuls  in  Middle  Europe.  He  held  this  coup  as  an 
"  arriere pensce;'  a  secret  well  kept,  during  the  long  period 
while  he  played  the  "  Conservator  of  the  peace  of  Europe." 
At  length  he  deemed  that  "  the  hour  was  come  and  the 
man  :"  he  made  his  stride,  overreached  himself,  and  fell  to 
rise  no  more.  His  enterprise  was  just  one  of  those  of 
which  the  difficulty  and  danger  could  be  fully  known  only 
in  the  attempt.  Nicholas  discovered  them  when  too  late 
to  draw  back  from  the  sole  blunder  of  a  lifelong  policy. 
His  imperial  and  imperious  spirit  could  not  brook  to  own 
its  error,  and  he  paid  his  life  as  the  penalty  of  miscalcula- 
tion. Let  the  doctors  say  what  they  will,  this  is  the  true 
diagnosis  of  the  death-disorder  of  the  "  Autocrat  of  all  the 

K-ussias." 

I  believe  the  Czar  never  saw  the  "  dark  blue  waters"  of 
the  coveted  Mediterranean  but  once,  and  that  was  in  1845, 
when  a  most  convenient  illness  of  his  imperial  consort 


226  GLEAHINGS  A5TEE  "  GBAND  IOUB'MsTS. 

gave  hl:n  the  pretext  for  visiting  ^-^^  ^^^/'^^'/^t^^ 
a  longing  eye  upon  that  sea  where  he  hoped  at  no  M 
p  XTto  see  his  navies  ride,  and  to  --  there  ham^e^ 
L  his  own  private  entrance  from  the  Euxme.    Then  it 
wasLt,probablyfor  the /r.**»«..o«r.cori,  the  "Papa  of 
Ihe  ^i"  -d  the  "  Pope  of  the  Latin  Commumons  '  held 
oIv!"e  and  council  together,  each  doubtless  "  w.se  m  h>s 
own  conceits,"  intent  upon  his  own  objects,  and  planmng 
This^o  t  soul  how  he  might  turn  to  ac«.unt  this 
^k^l  e^onnter  of  wit  and  policy,"  "  veiled  under  a  show 
of  s^dted  courtesy  and  respect."     It  was  durmg  th.8 
littf  t  Czar  t  Jthe  Pontiff  that  an  incident  occ^ed 
Inwhich  all  that  is  involved  in  the  present  eventf^ 
Ixt  e  and  its  issue  seemed  to  hang  upon  a  ha.  which 
n  ree  and  unruly  wiU  of  an  individual  nnght  have 
™  d  in  an  instant-and  that  it  did  not  do  so  will. 
n£,  be  thought  a  dark  mystery  when  the  story  . 

*' When  at  Bome,  I   had   an  acquaintance  to   whose 
civ^ties  I  was  indebted  for  much  information,  to  which 
sequent  events  have  given  a  curious  interest  and  sign^- 
c^  e     He  was  of  the  Pope's  household-an  ecclesi^tic 
Xotrse-but,  by  his  connexion  with  some  of  the  military 
i^L,  CO  Jrsant  beyond  others  wi«i  tho  gener^ 
news  of  B.me.    Whether  from  choice,  as  he  said  or  from 
Tzeal  for  conversion,  as  some  suspected,  he  much  affected 
Csh  society,  and  always  affirmed  that  he  foimd  a  great 
Tarm  in  the  unreserve  and  frankness  of  his  English  ac 

'"^^rMonsignor  —  I  had  occasional  "i—^ 
anicales"  on  religious  subjects.  If  with  me  his  object  was 


A  PASSAGE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  LATE  CZAB. 


227 


"  conversion,"  he  certainly  "  took  nothing  by  his  motion,*' 
while  I  gained  a  good  deal  from  his  civilities  and  commu- 
nications :  his  arguments  served  rather  to  strengthen  than 
weaken  my  own  convictions,  and  from  his  politico-religious 
chit-chat  I  obtained  much  knowledge  not  otherwise  acces- 
sible to  me.  I  well  remember  the  simple  exultation  with 
which  he  communicated  to  me  the  "great  point"  his 
Church  had  just  attained,  in  getting  possession  of  "  the 

church  key  of  Bethlehem: '     Monsignor calculated  as 

little  as  myself  at  the  time  to  what  a  mine  of  combustibles 
this  "  great  point"  was  to  prove  a  kindling  spark  ;  he  was 
viewing  but  as  a  diplomatic  triumph  over  the  "  schismatic 
Greeks"  a  circumstance  which  has  now  brought  a  world  in 
arms  into  deadly  conflict  on  the  shores  of  the  Euxine. 
Speaking  one  day  of  the  Papal  army,  in  which  a  relative 

held  a  high  command,  Monsignor told  me  that  it  was 

a  force  composed  of  all  nations — "  as  became  a  Catholic 
force"— he  said,  smiling;  that  Switzerland  contributed 
largely  from  its  Catholic  cantons,  but  that  they  had  also 
many  Poles.  And  then  he  told  me  the  following  story, 
but  with  an  Italian  vivacity  and  force  of  diction  which, 
while  it  impressed  the  narrative  upon  my  memory,  I 
cannot  pretend  to  impart  to  my  repetition  of  it. 

"  Two  years  since,"  he  said,  "the  Euasian  Emperor  was 
here.  Although  a  '  Scismatico;  he  is  a  great  man— - 
{'veramente  urC  TJomo  di  grmdezza')  —  and  was  received 
accordingly  by  '  la  ma  Sanctita'  in  all  courtesy ;  and 
when  he  departed  it  was  with  a  guard  of  honour  to  Civita 

Vecchia " 

"  What  ?"  said  I,  "  the  Guardi  Nobile  ?" 
The  Eoman  drew  himself  up. 

q2 


228  GLEANINOS  ArlEK  «  GEAND  T0TJE"-ISTS. 

„  Oh   no-the  lomaji  nobles  ru>ver  put  themselves  on 
duty  but  for  the  Sovereign  Pontiff  in  person;  but  the- 
Eussian  had  a  picked  guard  of  o-  best  cavalry  -da  bad 
ride  they  had  of  it.    A  curious  thing  happened,  wbch  I 
will  relate,  if  you  will  permit  me." 

1  bowed  my  head  in  attention,  and  he  proceeded 
"Tou  know  that  I  live  in  the  palazzo  of  my  uncle,  the 
General     It  happened  that  I  was  at  home,  and  my  uncle 
fbsenVwhen  the  commandant  of  the  escort  came  to  make 
hXort  to  the  Military  Governor  of  Borne,  booted 
splashed,  and  weary ;  be  was  impatient  to  de^^ver  m  h.s 
etums  Lnd  be  gone.    But  whUe  he  wa.ted,  I  conversed 
with  him  as  an  old  acquaintance,  a  brave  man    a  refug  o 
Pole,  a  good  soldier,  and  a  devout  son  of  the  Church, 
who  had  fled  before  the   persecution   of  our  fa.th   m 
.  White  Eussia.'  of  which  you  have  doubtless  heard-who 
has  not  ?    After  a  little  conversation,  in  wh.ch  he  seemed 
disturbed  and  absent,  he  said  tome,  abruptly,   Father,  I 
wish  to  tell  you  something,  but  it  is  not  a  " -^^on  - 
no-for  it  was  no  sin,  but  a  great  victory  which  I  gained 
;  steX-  So.  tut  CaUuclc  tra.eU  f-^  He  ^avds  like 
th  I  vil^'  Half  my  troop  are  in  hospital,  and  their  horse 
ame  for  a  month  to  come !'-'  Well,  it  is  strange  how  the 

IX  saints  and  the  .o^d  «od  :n^_:;;;;r;\  r. 

e?;u"X--C:ina:i:-erecometo 
W  e  naa  gu         h  xridiolas  went  ever  at  the  same 

E  in  a  wild!  gloomy  spot,  I  found  n>yself  ^P^ 
singly  by  the  side  of  the  open  carriage,  in  which  the 
Emperor  travelled  alone.    I  turned  my  head,  and  before. 


A  PASSAGE  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  LATE  CZAB. 


229 


I 


behind,  there  was  no  one— no  one ;  and  there  he  lay  alone 
and  asleep  in  the  hot  sun,  with  his  great  breast  invitmg 
the  stab  I  had  often  wished  an  opportunity  to  give  him— 
for  am  I  not  a  Pole,  Father  ?-an  outcast  from  the  hearth 
of  my  fathers  ?-and  there  lay  the  oppressor  of  my  race 
and  of  my  religion  under  my  hand !  Yes,  Father,  it  was  a 
wUd  place,  and  my  heart  was  fuU  of  dark  thoughts,  and  my 
brain  grew  on  fire,  and  I  know  not  what  I  might  not  have 
done,  if  it  had  lasted  longer ;  but  the  carriage  gave  a  great 
jolt   and  the  giant  started  up  from  his  sleep,  and  the 
impulse  passed  away.     But'-and  his  breast  heaved  like 
the  sea  as  he 'repeated— '  i<  was  a  great  temptation,  and 
praise  be  to  God  and  all  saints  that  I  did  not  dishonour 
his  Holiness's  safeguard !' " — 

« It  was  indeed  a  strange  chance  and  strange  tempta- 
tion." I  said.  "  Had  the  Pole  yielded  to  it,  what  conse- 
quences might  have  followed !" 

«  Northern  blood  runs  cool,"  rejoined  my  companion, 

with  a  strange  smile.    "  I  fear  an  Italian  in  the  Pole's 

place  would  have  buried  his  stUetto  in  his  enemy's  heart 

first,  and  have  speculated  on  consequences  afterwards."— 

Probably  no  dav  passes  in  which  men  are  not  caUed  on 

in  multiplied  cases  to  decide  the  question-"  Shall  we  do 

evil  that  good  may  come  i"  and  as  often  as  it  presents 

itself,  the  word,  the  rule,  the  providence  of  God  rise  up 

in  the  awfuUv  simple  interdict  of-"  God  forbid."     And 

yet,  interpreting  the^o**  of  the  Czar's  escape  by  its/«tore 

and  OUT  present,  the  temptation  is  now  strong  to  wish  that 

the  Pole's  blow  had  descended  on  the  sleeping  victim,  and 

thus  saved  Europe  the  after-crop  of  anxiety,  hostility, 

blood,  and  tears,  which  it  is  now  reaping  from  the  ruthless 


230 


GLBASINGS  A»TEB  "  GEAND  X0TIB"-I8XS. 


smHtion  of  the  Autocrat  who  escaped  that  danger.     But 
8tm  the  rule  is  unalterable,  that  "  wrong  never  comes 
right,"  and  let  the  event  be  what  it  may,  the  issue  between 
Bussian  ambition  and  the  repressive  powers  of  the  West 
must  have  leen  tried  at  last.    The  plans  of  that  Czar  were 
too  deeply  laid,  and  reached  too  far  back  into  Eussian 
policy,  to  be  broken  up  by  any  single  event  of  whatever 
magnitude.    He  seemed  to  foresee  and  calculate  anythmg 
that  might  happen.     «  Vous  MOerez  ma  fiotte-et  apres  ? 
_(Tou  may  bum  my  fleet-but  what  of  that?")  was  one 
of  the  remarkable  exposes  of  his  full  calculation  of  aU 
contingencies,   made  to   Sir  HamUton  Seymour,  in  his 
memorable  proposal  to  England  to  strip  and  plunder  the 
"  sick  man"  ere  he  was  cold.     Perhaps  the  one  thmg 
which  his  far-seeing  calculations  did  not  take  into  account 
was  his  own  death  in  the  very  crisis  of  the  conflict ;  and  yet 
this  event,  which  has  happened,  and  which  would  have 
been  ruin  to  a  miscalculated  enterprise  of  an  Autocrat, 
does  not  seem  to  have  disorganised  his  arrangements  very 
sensibly.    A  less  energetic  hand  may  have  caught  up  the 
reins,  but  his  successor  does  not  as  yet  show  the  slightest 
sign  of  swerving  from  the  desperate  enterprise  of  "  carry- 
ing out  the  policy  of  Catherine  and  Paul !" 

"Le  Czar  est  mort—rien  n'ett  change"— is  the  brief 
dictum  of  the  calm-judging  French  Emperor,  and  the 
battle  of  aggression  and  repulsion  yet  remains  to  be  fought 
out  on  the  heights  of  Sebastopol  or  elsewhere.  Let  us  be 
thankful  that  an  "United  France  and  England" -the 
powers  of  progress  and  civUisation  in  the  West,-can,  in 
the  conflict,  raise  as  their  battle  cry,  «  God  defend  the 
right !" 


"  THE  nm  or  the  i.rENNINES." 


231 


CHAPTEB  XIII. 

«  THE  nnf  OP  THE   APENHINES" 
«  THE   GATE   OE   BOLOGNA"-"  THE   TTJDBSCHE." 

We  have  left  Eome ;  shall  I  say  anything  of  Elorence? 
or  rather,  can  I  say  anything  of  Florence  wMch  wiU  not 
violate  my  own  rule,  not  wittingly  to  speak  of  things 
better  said   by  others,  and  before  me.    The  Florence 
mosaic  of  pietro  dura,  as  a  curious  and  ingenious  manu- 
facture, might  give  a  subject ;  but  it  seems  scarce  worth 
dwelling  on ;  so,  on  the  whole,  I  think  I  shall  pass  from 
Florence,  with  one  little  bit  of  scandal  about  the    Venu. 
di  Medicis,"  which  will,  I  am  quite  sure.be  new  a^d  ^ginal. 
A  friend  of  mine,  going  one  morning  early  to  the  GaUery 
in  the  hope  of  an  uninterrupted  half  hour's  tete-a-tete 
with  the  presiding  divinity  of  the  Tribune-found  him- 
self  "prevented"  by  two  sprightly  young  ladies  of  his 
acquaintance,  whom  he  surprised  in  the  act  of  makmg 
xuost  scientific  use  of  a  tape  in  carefully  measuring  the 
notoriously  thick  ankle  of  the  Venus,  with  a  view,  doubt- 
less, te  a  private  comparison  with  their  own  pret  y  ankles 
at  home.    If  my  informant  is  to  be  behoved,  the    celestial 


232  GLEANIl^GS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0IJE"-ISTS. 

rosy  red"  with  which  they  acknowledged  detection  in  this 
anatomico-^^^c^tV  occupation,  was  so  warm,  that  it  actually 
communicated  a  reflected  hlush  to  the  insensate  statue 
itself;  but  this  I  myself  think  somewhat  doubtful,  and 
incline  to  the  opinion,  that  young  ladies  who  had  brought 
themselves  to  engage  in  such  scientific  examinations,  must 
not  only  have  outlived  the  age,  but  very  probably  lost  the 
grace  of  blushing  altogether. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  I  shall  pass  on.  The  Arno  sun- 
sets are  things  to  be  remembered,  but  not  described ;  so 
let  us  from  Tlorence  and  address  ourselves  to  the  passage 
of  the  Apennines,  "  sans  phrased 

Eorsyth  has  a  horrible  episode  of  two  friends  of  his, 
who  escaped  with  their  lives  from  the  murder-hole  of  an 
inn  among  the  Apennines,  where  the  jackal  landlady  used 
to  "  set"  victims  for  the  monster  cure  of  the  parish,  who 
with  a  chosen  gang,  used  to  surprise  and  murder  them 
in  their  beds.  Of  course  the  landlady  and  assassins  of 
Forsyth's  day  are  long  "  gone  to  their  own  place,"  but 
the  locality  remains  unaltered,  the  road  runs  in  the  same 
direction,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  we  slept  in  the  very 

same  inn! 

It  was  all  but  twilight  when,  having  toiled  up  to  the 
summit-level  of  the  road  and  range,  we  drove  to  the  door 
of  a  solitary  auberge,  on  the  very  highest  point  at  which 
the  Apennines  are  passed.  When  I  say  solitary,  I  do  not 
mean  that  a  hamlet  did  not  lie  round,  but  the  house  had 
an  air  of  strange  loneliness,  discomfort,  and  want  of  use  ; 
the  ascent  to  the  guest-chambers  was  by  a  long,  steep, 
dark  stone  stair ;  and  when  the  landlady  showed  us  our 
sleeping-rooms,  which  opened  in  suites  off  a  large  central 


"  THE  INN  OF  THE  APENNINES." 


233 


salle,  she  gave  mysterious  warnings  to  be  particidar  in 
fastening  our  rooms  at  night,  which  naturally  provoked 
inquiry  as  to  whom  they  were  to  be  locked  against  ?  and 
what  she  meant  ?  To  which  she  responded  by  looking 
cautiously  round,  and  then  uttering  in  a  low,  emphatic 
voice,  the  single  word—"  Tudesche  !" 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  convey  the  all  of  hate  and  dread 
which  an  Italian  puts  into  his  pronunciation  of  this 
dreaded  name-embodying  as  it  does  the  over-mastering 
power  which  holds  down  the  writhing  energies  of  Italy 
with  a  giant  grasp.  The  Teutonic  name  has  become  on 
the  Italian  side  of  the  Alps  a  "word  to  conjure  with ;"  it 
calls  up  in  the  Italian  breast  feelings  of  deep  and  mortal 
enmity,  and  no  Italian  ever  utters  it  except  in  the  "  bated 
breath"  of  concentrated  and  intensified  dislike. 

It  appeared  upon  inquiry,  that  a  smaU  Austrian  force 
had  been  lately  sent  up  from  Bologna  to  the  hamlet,  be- 
cause  of  some  "  extravaganzas  of  the  young  men,"  the 
hostess  said,  carelessly.  The  troopers  were  below,  their 
horses  in  the  stables,  and  the  ofdcers  had  apartments 
opening  off  the  same  salle  as  ours. 

"  If  they  were  officers,  then,  we  had  nothing  to  fear,"  I 
remarked.  "  Oh,  no,"  she  rejoined,  "  officers  and  men, 
they  were  '  tutte  Tudesche;  all  rogues  alike." 

Justice  to  aU  parties  obliges  me  here  to  state,  that  as  we 
experienced  neither  disturbance  nor  incivility  from  the 
«  Tudesche,"  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  sense  of  security 
from  the  consciousness  of  their  presence,  and  as  the  esca- 
pades of  the  young  men  of  the  hamlet,  of  which  the  hostess 
spoke  so  slightly  as  "  extravaganzas,"  proved  afterwards 
to  be  the  mere  peccadillos   of  "  murder,  violation,   and 


/ 


234  GLEi^lTlNGS  AFTER  "  QBAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 

plunder,"  it  appears  to  me  that  the  good  lady's  estimate 
of  the  comparative  morals  of  her  guests  and  neighbours 
ought  to  be  received  with  some  caution. 

Some  of  our  party  had  retired  to  rest,  a  few  of  us  con- 
tinned  reading  and  writing  in  the  long  gloomy  salle,  when, 
about  ten  o'clock,  the  heavy  tread  and  jingle  of  sabre  and 
spur  upon  the  stone  stairs  announced  the  return  of  our 
German  neighbours.     Two  taU  young  officers  strode  into 
the  room,  and  from  their  look  of  surprise  at  seeing  it  occu- 
pied, I  suspect  that  traveUers  in  general  rather  eschewed 
these  suspicious  quarters ;  the  Germans  evidently  came 
prepared  to  solace  themselves  with  their  nightly  meer- 
schaum in  the  salle,  but  seeing  ladies  of  our  party,  were 
so  polite  as  to  retire  at  once  to  their  own  apartment,  where, 
if  they  smoked,  it  must  have  been  out  of  window  or  up 
chimney,  for  we  saw  no  more  of  them,  nor  did  we  experi- 
ence  any  annoyance  either  olfactory  or  otherwise  for  the 

rest  of  the  night. 

With  the  early  dawn  I  was  astir,  and  as  a  large  party 
takes  some  time  to  get  in  motion,  I  walked  out  to  recon- 
noitre  this  very  highest  region  of  the  Apennine  range. 
Getting  clear  of  the  hamlet,  I  looked  out  upon  a  very 
peculiar  scene ;  I  stood  upon  one  of  a  number  of  peaks  or 
spurs  of  the  range,  all  of  nearly  the  same  eminence,  and  aU 
flattening  into  a  smaU  table-land  at  the  top,  aff'ording  room 
for  hamlets  similar  to  that  which  formed  our  resting-place 
last  night;   between  these  spots  the   ground  deepened 
abruptly  into  wooded  valleys  or  ravines,  forming  a  network 
over  the  country  in  all  directions,  and  presenting  what 
amateurs  in  such  localities  would  call  a  "  sweet  regM'  for 
guerilla  warfare,or  bandit-ambuscade,  as  the  case  might  be. 


"  THE  TSrS  OF  THE  APEKIflKES." 


235 


It  would  be  as  difficult  for  a  large  force  to  act  in  com- 
bination in  such  a  region  as  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
foUow  the  natives  into  the  densely  wooded  defiles  branch- 
ing off  in  all  directions ;  and  as  the  long,  level  country 
towards  Bologna  brightened  in  the  new  risen  sun,  I  began 
to  think  with  some  anxiety  as  to  what  adventures  might 
lie  before  us  in  the  interval  to  his  setting  again. 

This  anxiety  was  rather  increased  than  lessened,  when, 
returning  through  the  little  village,  I  took  notice  of  a 
wretched  hovel  of  scarce  larger  dimensions  than  a  cobbler's 
staU,  which,  nevertheless,  had  something  of  an  official  and 
public  air  about  it,  the  door  and  walls  being  garnished  with 
two  or  three  small  printed  bills,  shabby  proclamations  in 
sooth  they  were,  yet  I  was  so  curious  as  to  stop  and  read, 
and  they  proved  instructive  enough  as  to  the  kind  of  locality 
in  which  we  were.     I  was  right,  the  little  edifice  was  the 
"  Town-hall,"  "  Police-office,"  and  "  Palazzo  di  Justizia"  of 
Lojano,  aU  combined  in  one ;  and  the  tenor  of  the  notices 
which  adorned  its  waUs  was  not  calculated  to  reassure  a 
timorous   traveUer.     Two  or  three   ofi-ered  rewards  for 
notorious  characters  lurking  in  the  district,  and  charged 
mth  the  trifling  crimes  of  homicide,  abduction,  and  robbery. 
A  longer  paper  was  of  the  nature  of  an  address  from  the 
authorities  of  the  place  to  the  inhabitants  generaUy,  which 
set  out  vdth  the  following  preamble  : 

i.  Whereas  this  district  has  long  been  noted  and  infamous  for  the 
various  crimes  of  murder,  plunder,  and  violences  of  dl  ^-^s  jallmg 
lown  the  anger  of  God  and  of  his  HoUness  upon  the  offenders,  the  mha- 
Mtl^ts terUed,  as  they  value  the  ^onoy  of  their  county,  t^^^^^^^^ 
of  the  Cardinal  Legate,  and  the  blessing  of  the  common  Father  ot  aU 
Ch»rto  be'aidiig  and  assisting  the  lawful  authonties  m  disco- 
vering  and  repressing,"  &c. 


236  GLEANINGS  AJTEE  «  GEAND  T0UB"-ISTS. 

The  Whole  being  precisely  the  sort  of  ^ocume^  *"  pos-- 
the  reader  with  a  conviction  that  crime  was  nfe  and  law 
powerL,  -  that  I  returned  to  our  hotel  very  whole- 
CSL^pressedwith  the  desirableness  of  exped^ng  as 
LTct  as  possible  our  departure  from  a  locahty  where, 
:;:' the  evidence  of  no  unfriendly  witness,  tbe  Iwely  *-- 
perament  of  the  youths  of  the  village  was  -P*  *  J'-k 
out  in.o  the  «  horse  play"  of  throat-cuttu^g,  robbery,  and 

"tw^Jdtrserved  no  good  end  to  have  alarmed  the 
females  of  our  convoy,  and  as  we  worked  our  way  dowu 
the  eastern  face  of  the  Apennines,  tbey  were  as  hght 
hearted  and  gay  as  on  other  occasions  xn  observu^g     bow 
well  a  bandit  with  long  gun  and  steeple-hat  ^0"^  Jook 
on  particular  points  commanding  the  road ;  happily  for 
them  their  fancy  sketch  did  not  become  reahty.  and  we  d 
passed  unscathed  from  this  "  infamous"  region ;  the    un 
conscious  ones"  of  us  in  that  "  blissful  ignorance,  which  it 
would  have  been  folly  to  change  for  b.tter  wisdom      and 
Tseniors  of  the  party  observed  with  ™-b  ^hanl^u^^^ss 
:ningled  with  apprehension,  that  as  we  descended  the 
mountain,  a  party  of  the  Austrian  cavalry  followed  us  at  a 
certain  distance,  and  truly  glad  were  we  to  perceive  at 
intervals  their  helmets  glittering  in  the  rising  sun  above 
us  until  we  had  cleared  that  region  of  defiles  which  sur. 
rounded  their  quarters.     At  length  we  were  in  a  compara- 
tively open  district,  but,  though  «  quittes  pour  la  peur, 
never  breathing  freely  until  we  found  ourselves  and  our 
charge  altogether  clear  of  the  mountain  range,  and  rolhng 
along  the  valley  of  the  Kheno,  towards  Bologna. 

As  I  have  no  bandit  adventure  to  record,  I  may  as  weU 


"  THE  GATE  OF  BOLOGNA. 


237 


here  note  how  thankful  I  felt  to  our  veturino,  Oeorgio, 
who  had  conveyed  us  all  the  way  from  Eome  to  Padua, 
for  having  reserved,  until  we  were  just  parting,  the  con- 
fession of  his  own  special  ill-luck  in  regard  to  banditti. 
At  Ferrara  we  found  the  whole  town  "astir"  and  excited, 
by  the  esecution  of  a  celebrated  brigand,  which  had  taken 
place  a  few  days  before.     Portraits  of  the  "  handsome  cut- 
throat" were  in  every  window,  and  anecdotes  of  his  ferocity 
in  every  mouth.    It  was  then  that  Georgio,  out  of  the  ful- 
ness of  his  heart,  informed  me  that  he  had  been  three 
times  placed  "faccm  a  terra"  by  brigands,  that  being  the 
established  posture  for  the  "veturino"   while  the  free- 
hooter  plunders  his  freight.     Let  us  hope,  for  the  sake  of 
his  future  employers,  that  honest  Georgio  has  exhausted 
his  ill-luck  in  this  respect ;  bat  I  much  fear  had  I  been 
aware  of  this  sort  of  affinity  for  being  plundered  before 
our  "contratto"was  signed,  I  should  have  hesitated  to 
engage  with  a  conductor  so  unlucky.  But  we  found  'AU  s 
well  that  ends  well"  a  proverb  as  true  as  most  eld  pro- 
verbs are  generally.  .    ,,     ,      .    t,„™ 
We  arrived  in  Bologna  early  enough  m  the  day  to  have 
rested,  and  after  an  early  dinner  to  have  arranged  a  visit 
to  the  beautiful  "  Certosa  Burial-Grounds,"  at  a  short 
distance  beyond  the  walls.   I  cannot  explain,  I  can  but 
affirm  the  fact,  that  the  Certosa  convents  throughout  Italy 
seem  to  have  been  «  suppressed"  in  more  than  their  fair 
proportion  to  other  monastic  establishments,     whenever 
you  find  in  the  vicinity  of  an  Italian  town  any  modem 
public  iBBtitution  of  which  the  locality  or  ^uUd^gs  are 
peculiarly  imposing,  you  are  sure  on  inquiry  to  find  that 
ft  has  risen  on  the  fall  of  a  «  Carthusiar,"  convent.    Even 


238 


GLEANINGS  ATTEE  "  GBAND  TOTJIl"-ISTS. 


"  THE  GATE  OF  BOIiOGNA." 


239 


/ 


where  not  suppressed,  but  aUowed  to  exist,  they  are  gene- 
raUy  shorn  of  their  fair  proportions,  and  curtailed  of 
their  rich  revenues.  The  "  Certosa"  of  Naples,  in  situa- 
tion, architecture,  and  landscape  the  most  favoured  in 
Italy,  probably  in  the  world,  is  tenanted  but  by  the 
skeleton  remnant  of  its  former  brotherhood,  and  I  have 
seen  at  Vesper  time  the  white-robed  inmates  flit  about 
among  the  snowy  piUars  of  their  marbled  cloisters  rather 
like  isolated  ghosts,  than  in  the  long  array  in  which  they 
used  formerly  to  pass  processionally  to  this  service. 

Thus  we  found  it  everywhere  ;  and  as  I  know  of  nothing 
in  the  Carthusian  records  either  of  wealth  or  wickedness 
to  have  thus  marked  them  out  for  special  suppression  or 
plunder,  I  can  only  mention  the  fact  as  I  observed  it,  as 
remarkable,  leaving  the  solution  to  others. 

Our  party  would  have  required  two  carriages  for  our 
excursion,  but  as  the  evening  was  fair  and  the  distance 
not  far,  we  ordered  but  one,  intending  to  exchange  places 
with  any  of  the  four  walkers  who  might  feel  fatigued.   We 
paid  our  visit,  loitered  out  the  lovely  summer's  evening  in 
the  Certosa  grounds,  and  in  the  singular  arcaded  passage 
of  three  miles  long,  by  which  the  Madonna  of  S.  Luke 
(how  many  Madonnas  did  S.  Luke  really  paint  ?)  pays  her 
annual  visit  to  her  good  city  of  Bologna.   Our  evening  had 
been  a  perfect  one  hitherto,  when  lo !  as  we  neared  the 
gate  by  which  we  had  come  out  from  the  city  a  few  hours 
before,  I  saw  the  face  of  the  coachman  by  whom  I  sat 
grow  suddenly  blank,  and  looking  forwards  I   saw  the 
reason— our  entrance  was  barred:   the  city  gate,  both 
carriage-way  and  wicket,  was  shut  in  our  faces.     A  knock 


at  the  latter  brought  a  grim  German  visage  to  the  grille, 
from  whom  no  explanation  could  be  extracted  but  that 
« there  was  no  admission ;"  and  so  there  we  stood,  a  party 
of  strangers,  cut  off  from  our  hospitivmM  the  purHeus  of 
a  strange  city,  in  the  fast-falling  darkness  of  a  summer 

evening. 

The  explanation  of  this  mischance  is  highly  illustrative 
of  the  unsettled,  seething  state  of  the  Italian  mind  under 
the  political  rule  to  which  for  its  sins  it  seems  to  be  hope- 
lessly given  over. 

«  The  Legation  of  Bologna' '  is  one  of  the  most  important 
of  the  States  of  the  Church.     The  Bolognese  have  ever 
affected,  however  ill  they  may  have  maintained,  a  distinct, 
independent,  quasi-national  character  of  their  own,  and  m 
the  general  mouvem^nt  of  1848  they  raised  the  standard 
of  "  United  Italy,"  constructed  their  paper  constitution, 
like  their  neighbours,  and  made  a  wild,  desperate  defence 
against  the  Austrian  forces  when  sent  to  reduce  them.  It 
was,  however,  unavailing,  they  were  obliged  to  capitulate  ; 
the  Austrians  entered  into  militaiy  occupation  of  Bologna, 
and  compelling  the  Bolognese  to  a  constrained  and  ill- 
endured  submission  to  the  restored  Papal  authorities,  they 
had  continued  at  the  tune  of  our  visit  to  garrison  the  city, 
and  to  hold  the  command  of  some  of  the  gates. 

Although  we  had  passed  free  through  the  Pope's 
brigand  subjects  of  the  Apennines,  we  were  doomed  to 
undergo  some  inconveniences  and  no  small  alarm  m  his 
city  of  Bologna,  in  consequence  of  our  arriving  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  those  popular  movements  known  in  these 
countries  under  the  name  of  "passive  resistance,"  which 


240  GLEABIKGS  AFTEE  "  GBAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 

generally,  however,  takes  in  the  end  a  more  demonstrative 
shape,  unless  it  be  either  subdued  or  successful  at  once. 
Pressed  down  by  the  iron  hand  of  Austria,  the  "  Young 
Italy"  of  Bologna  had  resorted  to  a  device  for  damaging 
and  distressing  their  liege  lord  the  Pope,  which  had  in  it 
something  of  that  "  ridiculous"  which  is  often  near  akin  to 

the  "  sublime." 

An  impost  on  tobacco  forms  a  large  portion  of  the  Papal 
revenue;  it  was   at  this  time  farmed  out  to  "Prince 
Torlonia,"  who  was  supposed  to  be  about  to  make   his 
HoUness  a  large  advance  on  the  prospective  proceeds  of 
the  tax,  and  it  occurred  to  some  of  the  youths  of  Bologna, 
that  if  they  could  only  estabUsh  a  "  Total- Abstinenee-From- 
Smoking-Tobacco  Institute"  in  Bologna,  the  example  of 
this  patriotic  city  might  spread  the  movement,  might 
damage  the  security  of  the  intended  loan,  and  that  sooner 
or  later  "  la  sua  Sanctita"  might  thus  be  starved  out  of 
absolutism  and  into  liberality. 

Accordingly,  the  young  liberals  of  Bologna  issued  then- 
manifesto,  declaring  "  any  man  who  smoked  tobacco  to  be 
an  enemy  to  liberalism  and  progress  ;"  and  not  only  did 
they  make  this  proclamation,  but,  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word,  they  paraded  the  city  in  bands  to  see  it  earned 
into  practical  effect ;  while  the  constituted  authorities, 
horrified  at  the  idea  of  their  being  not  "  smoked,"  but 
starved!  out  of  office,  "lay  hushed  in  grim  repose,"  with 
the  Austrians  at  their  back,  and  only  waiting  for  some 
overt  act  which  would  deliver  the  anti-smokers  into  their 

hands.  , 

It  came  at  last,  and,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  on  the 
very  day  of  our  sojourn  at  Bologna.    A  knot  of  young 


«  THE  TUDESCHE. 


It 


241 


men  of  the  first  consideration  in  Bologna,  parading  the 
city,  Hghted  on  some  caitiff  transgressing  their  ukase,  by 
Bteding  into  a  tobacconist's  shop  to  purchase  a  portion  of 
the  forbidden  nicotian  luxury ;  they  seized  him  by  the 
coat-tail,  and  gently  drew  him  back.     But  if  they  were  at 
his  coat-tail,  the  "  sUrrir  with  a  vision  of  the  "  Tudesche" 
in  the  background,  were  as  close  at  their  own.     They 
were  at  once  seized  and  thrown  into  prison ;  and,  as  the 
arrest  of  so  many  young  men  of  leading  famHies  was  not 
unlikely  to  lead  to  an  imeute,  or  some  other  popular  de- 
monstration, the  authorities  stood  prepared  for  the  worst, 
and  the  Austrians  in  particular  took  that  precaution  which 
was  proving  so  inconvenient  to  us,  of  closing  tie  gates,  of 
which  thev  had  the  custody,  an  hour  earHer  than  usual. 

«  Surely,"  said  I  to  the  coachman,  after  my  ineffectual 
attempt  at'parley  with  the  grim  guard,  «  surely  you  might 
expkin  to  him  that  we  are  'forestien;  no  way  implicated 
in  Bologna  quarrels,  and  he  might  let  us  pass." 

The  coachman  turned  to  me,  and  with  that  stereotyped 
emphasis  in  which  aU  his  countrymen  pronounce  the  word, 
he  merely  uttered  "Tudesche!"  thereby  implying  that 
he  had  as  much  hope  of  moving  the  impassive  inmates  of 
the  Certosa  we  had  left  as  "  la  hrutta  genter  the  stoUd 
Germans  who  held  the  gate  against  us. 

A  thought,  however,  seemed  to  strike  him.  "  There  is 
an  Italian  gate,"  he  said;  "by  a  brisk  gallop  we  may 
gain  that  before  closing"-and  at  once  turning  the  car- 
riage,  he  certainly  did  gallop  with  a  briskness  which  just 
"  saved  our  distance,"  but  very  narrowly— 

"  The  drawbridge  trembled  on  the  rise, 
Just  as  across  its  arch  he  flies" — 

B 


242 


i» 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  rOTJR    -ISTS 


"  THE  TUDESCHE." 


243 


the  guard  was  turned  out  for  closing  tHe  gate  just  as  his 
smoking  horses  galloped  through. 

Now  that  we  in  the  carriage  had  escaped  so  narrowly 
the  risk  of  a  "bivouac"  in  the  cemetery,  or  arcades,  we 
had  time  to  think  of  something  else,  and  to  our  horror  we 
recoUected  that  the  walking  party-a  young  gentleman 
(scantily  furnished  with  Italian)  and  three  young  ladies- 
had  been  left  behind,  and  were  probably  sauntering  to- 
wards the  gate  from  which  we  had  been  so  ruthlessly  re- 

jected. 

Here  was  a  dilemma  indeed,  from  which  we  could  see 
no  escape.  We  could  not  go  back— we  were  now  a  mile 
or  two  from  the  "  German  gate."  We  could  only  hope 
that  they,  too,  would  have  turned  from  the  inhospitable 
portal  in  time  to  gain  entrance  elsewhere :  and  yet,  in 
their  utter  ignorance  of  the  locality,  how  was  this  to  be 
expected  ?  In  the  midst  of  these  painful  anxieties  we  ar- 
rived at  our  inn. 

Anybody  wiU,  I  am  sure,  at  once  realise  the  terrible 
anxieties  of  such  a  position  as  this— it  is  one  which  de- 
stroys all  perceptions  of  time,  probabilities,  possibilities 
—minutes  reckon  as  hours— contingent  dangers  magnify 
into  actual  horrors.     In  our  terror  at  some  one  calamity 
we  forget  the  various  chances  against  its  happening.    As 
the  night  darkened,  and  no  walking  party  arrived,  a  busy 
fancy  began  to  summon  round  me  every  danger  and  every 
mischance  which  could  befal  them.     A  town  in  revolt— a 
brutal  soldiery— ignorance  of  the  way  or  language— sup- 
posing them  admitted  anywhere,  or  supposing  them  abso- 
lutely shut  out,  three  girls  and  a  boy,  to  pass  a  night  on 
the  outskirts  of  a  great  city,  was  in  itself  an  "  image  of 


fear."  A  quarter,  a  half-hour,  lengthened  by  nervousness 
into  half  a  night,  went  by,  and  in  desperation  I  was  setting 
out  to  invoke  at  all  cost  and  trouble  the  aid  of  the  police, 
when  I  met  the  party  within  a  few  steps  of  the  inn-door, 
walking  leisurely  towards  me. 

"  Where  had  they  been  such  an  age  ?" — 
"  They  had  halted  nowhere ;— we  in  the  carriage  did  not 
feel  the  length  of  the  way,  but  they  had  walked  as  fast  as 
they  could." 

"  How  had  they  gotten  in  ?" 

"  Miss  P had  spoken  a  few  words  in  German  to  the 

guard,  and  the  gates  opened  like  magic." 

Here,  indeed,  was  an  unthought-of  resource,  which  had 
rescued  them  from  their  difficulty ;  and,  on  further  expla- 
nation, it  appeared,  that  on  their  first  application  the 
refusal  had  been  as  stem  as  to  ourselves,  but  when 

Migg  p (a  German  lady  of  our  party)  asked  in  her 

native  tongue  whether  they  would  shut  out  a  ''frdulei7C\ 
from  their  own  "  Ehine-land  ?"  the  bar  fell  at  once,  and 
discipline  and  "  phlegm"  yielded  to  a  claim  made  in  the 
holy  name  of  ^^  faderland.^^ ! — 

As  far  as  a  stranger,  taking  a  passing  view  of  the  rich 
plains  and  fine  cities  of  Lombardy,  is  qualified  to  speak,  I 
should  say  that  the  Austrian  rule  of  its  Italian  provinces 
was,  on  the  whole,  and  in  many  essentials,  paternal  and 
beneficent.  Pine  roads  branching  from  the  Stelvio  and 
the  Spliighen  Passes  over  the  whole  level  land  beneath ; 
a  magnificent  and  national  system  of  irrigation  covering 
the  plains  of  Lombardy  like  a  network,  and  enabling 
every  farmer  thereon  to  draw  from  the  great  water-range 
overhead,  a  supply  to  any  individual  field  on  his  land  as 

e2 


244  GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GBAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 

he  pleases ;  tlie  great  cities  Milan,  Verona,  and  others 
(aU  but  Venice,  seemingly  doomed  by  Austrian  policy  to 
neglect  and  rottenness),  in  progress  of  continued  adorn- 
ment  and  improvement ;  all  these  things  denote  a  govern- 
ment anxious  to  develop  the  energies  and  promote  the 
substantial  welfare  of  the  subject  people.    There  is  but 
one  growth  of  the  country  interdicted  and  discouraged, 
and  that  is  the  growth  of— mind!    Austria  seems  deter- 
mined  to  hold  the  Italian  still  as  the  "  Helot"  of  the 
«  Tudesche !''  and  the  final  issue  of  such  a  policy  remains 
to  be  seen.    Mind  is  a  produce  which,  if  du-ectly  de- 
pressed, will  grow,  and  spread,  and  sprout  out  wildly, 
irregularly,  mischievously ;  and  it  seems  an  inevitable  law 
of  nature  that  if  those  to  whom  its  culture  is  entrusted 
neglect  or  violate  their  duty,  they  must  look  to  have,  if 
not  their  own,  their  children's  teeth  "  set  on  edge"  by  the 
"  wild-grape  fruit"  of  their  negligence. 


TEinCB. 


245 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 


VENICE. 

EvEET  city  which  deems  itself  a  "  beauty,"  invents  its 
own  proverb  of  self-praise.  "  Seviglia''  rhymes  to  "  rmra^ 
vigliar  and  so  Seville  takes  rank  as  a  "  world's  wonder;" 
the  languishing  Neapolitan  condenses  his  appreciation  of 
his  lovely  city  into  the  euthanasian  aphorism,  "  Vede 
Napoli  e  poi  morir  while  "  beautiful  Venice,  the  pride  of 
the  sea,"  has  coined  for  its  motto  of  self-laudation  the 
distich — 

'''■  In-vedtOa  Venezza 
Perduta  bellezza.^* 

He  that  passeth  Venice  by 
Hath  for  beauty  heedless  eye. 

Unquestionably,  any  Italian  tour  "  passing  by"  that  sin- 
gular city  which  "  rose  like  an  exhalation"  from  a  swamp, 
to  sit  fourteen  centuries  as  a  regent  queen  over  what  for 
a  long  time  was  ''the  sea''  of  the  known  world,  must  be 
deemed  incomplete.  Too  true  it  is  that  Venice  is  not 
what  it  was;  that  pride,  profligacy,  and  poHcy-the  old 
vices  of  her  own  oligarchy— the  ruthless  statecraft  of  her 


246  GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  TOirB."-ISTS. 

new  foreign  masters,  have  combined  to  deliver  over  tlie 
ocean  queen  into  decay  and  degradation.     Venice  is  now 
but  the  wreck  of  tbe  great  power  for  wHcb  she  shows  in 
history.    Her  arsenal  holds  neither  gun  nor  galley  '.-not 
a  piece  of  effective  ordnance,  not  even  a  cockboat,  sea- 
worthy, within  its  five-mile  area.    Her  great  Bucentaur  is 
laid  up  like  the  remains  of  a  worn-out  puppet-show !   Her 
gonfalon  staffs  rise  standardless  in  bitter  mockery  of  the 
triple   sovereignty  they   once  typified.     Tour  step  now 
rings  hoUow  and  echoing  from  the  "  Scala  det  Giganti, 
and  along  the  once  thronged  terrace,  where  erewhile  gaped 
the  "  Bocca  di  LeonV'  for  the  dropped  hint,  wHch  could 
carry  terror  and  confiscation,  imprisonment  and  death,  to 
any  hearth  in  Yemce.    Never  again  wiH  the  haughty  Ye- 
netian  nobles,  among  whom  kings  were  proud  to  be  enrolled, 
walk  dominoed  and  apart  in  their  privileged  area  of  the 
Piazza  di  San  Marco,*  or  look  proudly  on  while  the  tokens 
of  marital  supremacy,  fetters  and  a  ring,  are  dropped  into 
the  subject  waters,  to  commemorate 

"  The  Adriatic  wedded  to  our  Duke." 
These  are  days  gone— and  gone  beyond  recal-for  to  a 

*  Nothing  can  prove  the  haughty  assumption  of  the  VeneUan  noMe 
more  truly  than  the  disregard  to  popular  feeling  with  which  he  shifted 
JS  priXd  walk  on  the  Piazza  of  St  Mark,  as  he  found  the  sun  shme 
^trwi^dblow,  to  suit  his  sensibiUties.    Before  a  Venetian  plebeian 
Led  to  tread  "  the  Piazza,"  he  was  obliged  to  consult  merxdi^  and 
t^lr  vane,  lest  he  should  intrude  his  common  clay  body  "  betwe^ 
^Twind  and  the  nobility"  of  a  "  Comaro,"  or  a  Moecenigo.     My,  if 
deLLacy,  in  its  licence,  has  played  wild  or  cruel  Pranks  ^^^^^.^^ 
com^  feuioism  to  cast  a  stone  at  it,  as  though  it  were  itself  sinles^ 
There  I  no  better  omen  for  the  future  of  our  country  than  the  jealousy 
iith  which  a  pubUc  sense  always  rises  so  shout  down  any  msult  to  the 
feeling,  or  invasion  of  the  rights,  of-the  populace. 


VENICE. 


247 


fallen  republic  there  cometh  no  resurrection ;  and  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  to  seal  the  tomb  of  the  defunct 
state,  Austrian  policy  now  directs  the  "  argosies"  of  fallen 
Venice  to  privileged  and  thriving  Trieste,  and  while  the 
"  Sea  Cybele"  is  of  set  purpose  left  to  rot  and  drop 
piecemeal  into  her  own  lagunes,  her  pert  modern  rival  rises 
and  spreads  her  sails,  and  grows  rich  upon  her  ruin.   Still, 
despite  of  aU  this,  a  visit  to  Yenice  has,  and  will  always 
have,  a  sad  and  peculiar  interest  of  its  own— an  interest 
which  the  picturesque  past  must  ever  maintain  over  the 
coarse  materialities  of  our  practical  present  world.     The 
tourist  who  would  turn  from  the  desolate  idleness  of  Yenice 
to  inspect  the  vulgar  activities  of  her  thriving  neighbour, 

would  deserve Now  to  what  shall  we  sentence  him  ? 

I  know  no  more  suitable  punishment  than  that  he  should 
wear  out  his  next  vacation-tour  in  half-hour  trips  on  "  re- 
•turn  tickets''  between  the  warehouses  of  Manchester  and 
the  wharfs  of  Liverpool ! — 

A  propos  of  railway  trips,  the  present  mode  of  approach 
to  this  city  of  the  sea  is  among  the  disillusions  which  fact 
is  for  ever  inflicting  on  fancy.     We  had  been  feeding 
imagination  with  book-drawn  ideas  of  arriving  in  a  gloam- 
ing twilight  on  the  banks  of  a  Stygian  canal  at  Maestre, 
there  to  embark  ourselves  and  fortunes  in  a  Charon-ic  ferry- 
boat, in  which  we  were  to  strike  out  darkling  into  the 
waste  of  waters,  to  see  presently  the  lights  and  outlines  of 
a  great  city,  looming  dim  on  the  horizon  to  seaward.  ''Mais 
nous  avons  cliange,  tout  celaP'  instead  of  embarking  at 
Maestre,  we  drove  up  to  the  Padua  Eailway  station,  as  it 
might  be  to  Paddington !  delivered  in  our  luggage,  and 
received  our  tickets  mechanically  and  methodically,  and 


248  OLEAOTNGS  AFTEE  «  GBAND-TOTIb"-ISTS. 

"took  our  seats"  as  any  excursionists  to  Windsor  or  Ox- 
ford might  do.  "  They  that  trouble  the  world  are  come 
hither  also"-not  even  the  Venice  lagunes  could  escape 
that  omnivorous  appetite  of  railway  speculation,  to  which 
(like  "Wantley's  dragon  of  old) 

"  Honscs  and  churches 
Are  but  geese  and  turkeys," 

which  drains  lakes,  levels  hills,  tunnels  mountains,  and, 
with  a  five-hundred  passenger-freight,  boldly  strikes  out  to 
traverse  the  famed  water-fence  of  Venice  upon  a  thread  of 
piled  tram-way,  which,  however  safe  to  travel  over,  looked 
Lmingly  perilous  as  it  vanished  to  a  point  in  the  closing 
evening  and  distant  waters.    And  yet  this  scene  is  not 
without  its  touch  of  Venetian  interest.  Very,  very  strange 
it  is  to  look  out  of  a  carriage-window  upon  the  black,  black 
depth  around  you.    "  It's  not  ^ery  deep,"  some  one  says. 
"  now  do  ym  know  tUti  "    «  A  wound  neither  deep  as  a 
draw-well  nor  wide  as  a  church-door,"  speeds  a  victim; 
there  may  not  be  "fuU  fathoms  five"  to  engulph  you  on 
the  failure  of  a  sleeper  or  the  fracture  of  an  axle^yet  quite 
enough  to  make  you  "  suffer  a  sea-change."    Within  the 
carriage,  all  is  light,  comfort,  and  warmth ;  without  dl  is 
suggestive  of  «  hairbreadth  'scapes,"  of  "  what  pain  it  is   o 
drown  "  and  so  forth.     On-on  we  go.    Will  this  world 
of  waters  never  end  ?    In  our  impatience  and  helplessness 
we  begin  to  conjecture  whether  the  sea-city  may  not  have 
broken  from  its  own  moorings,  and  be  floating  away  before 
us     There  is  no  conjecture,  however  absurd,  that  wiU  not 
obtrude  itself  on  nervousness,  travelling  in  the  dark,  and 
into — the  unknown. 


TENICE. 


249 


As  we  steamed  slowly  and  endlessly  on,  a  slight  incident, 
which  may  be  worth  relating,  broke  the  hushed  monotony. 
Our  carriage  contained  twenty  or  thirty  people,  ranged  in 
double  seats  along  its  length,  having  a  passage  between, 
with  doors  opening  at  each  end,  so  that  the  -conducteur," 
or  «  guard,"  can  pass  along  the  whole  length  of  the  train, 
from  one  carriage  to  the  other,  as  occasion  may  requu-e, 
and  utter  the  final  "  I'll  take  tickets,  please,"  without  that 
terrible  stop,  which  ends  every  English  railway  journey  in 
ten  minutes  of  fever  and  fidget.    I  would  strongly  recom- 
mend this  arrangement  to  the  attention  of  EngUsh  railway 
managers  and  presidents  of  «  roUing-stock  departments," 
as  one  of  those  hints  which  might  with  advantage  be 
adopted  from  our  neighbours'  book,  if  English  conceit 
would  allow  our  EaUway  magnates  to  think  that  "  any  good 
thing"  could  come  out  of  the  practice  of  these  "/«m« 

moimseers."  . 

We  were,  as  I  said,  steaming  endlessly  along,  when  the 
opening  door  of  the  carriage,  raising  a  little  cloud  of  im- 
palpable dust,  treated  me  to  an  indulgence  which  I  would 
not  barter  for  all  the  "high  toast,"  "Maccabaw,"  or 
«  Lundyfoot,"  that  ever  titillated  human  nostril  !-I  mean 
a  hearty  and  refreshing  sneeze!    I  sneezed,  once  and 
again,  loudlv,  sonorously,  without  restraint,  and  m  most 
guileless  un'consciousness  of  doing  aught  remaxkable  or 
uncommon,  and  yet  I  doubt  if  a  lighted  Catherine-wheel  op 
exploded  cracker  could  have  excited  a  greater  sensation 
than  my  sternutation  seemed  to  produce  in  the  railway 
carriage  through  all  its  compartments,  save  those  occupied 
by  the  "  heretici  Inglese."    At  the  first  explosion,  a  portly 
priest  opposite  broke  off  his  conversation  with  his  neigh- 


250  GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0XJE"-ISTS. 

bour  to  lift  his  hat  courteously,  to  bow  in  my  face,  and 
utter  what  the  expression  of  lis  face  told  me  was  a  com- 
miserating prayer;  his  neighbour  regarded  me  compas- 
sionately, and  did  the  like ;  ladies  in  full  career  of  tongue, 
paused,  looked  at  me,  at  each  other,  crossed  themselves 
quickly,  and  ''miracohr  were  silent  for  half  a  minute. 
The  evident  "  sensation"  lasted  long  enough  to  make  me 
feel  particularly  awkward,  under  the  consciousness  that  I 
had  somehow  committed  a  solecism,  though  of  what  nature 
I  could  not  at  all  understand.    It  was  not  for  some  time 
after  that  I  learned  the  true  state  of  the  case,  in  hearing 
that  at  some  remote  period,  Italy—the  Venetian  States  in 
particular— had  been  desolated  by  a  fatal  plague  (possibly 
that  which  occasioned  the  erection  of  the  church  of  the 
"  Salute"),  of  wHch  the  "  premonitory  symptom"  had  been 
violent  sternutation,  so  that  in  time  "it  arrived"  that  a 
sneeze  came  to  be  interpreted  as  a  death-warrant  I    or 
"  passing-bell-warning"   to  pray  for  a  "  soul  sick  unto 
death,  or  departing."   "Whether  it  is  that  the  sternutatory 
organs  of  the  Italians  are  ever  since  so  pecuHarly  insensible 
or  under  command  that  a  sneeze  is  a  rarity— or,  as  is  most 
likely,  that  the  custom  keeps  its  ground,  though  the  reason 
for  it  has  long  passed  away— certain  it  is  that  my  yielding 
to  this  (to  me)  natural  and  refreshing  convulsion  of  the 
nerves  obtained  for  me  the  commiserating  regards  of  a 
whole  railroad  carriage,  my  unimpressible  English  com- 
panions alone  excepted,  who  could,  as  Httle  as  myself, 
understand  the  demonstrative  sympathy  of  the  Italians 

around  us. 

At  length  we  arrived— no,  I  beg  pardon,  —  we  "ran 
aground"— upon  one  of  the  outlying  islands  of  Venice,  and 


VENICE. 


251 


the  huge  train  disembarked  its  cargo,  with  all  that  con- 
fusion  which  nothing  short  of  English  system  could  prevent 
from  being  a  chaos.    And  here  I  gladly  acknowledge  that 
something  like  interchange  might  take  place  with  recipro- 
cal advantage :  if  in  some  points  foreign  invention  might 
improve  us,  assuredly  a  Uttle  of  our  order  and  st/stem  would 
be  a  benefit  to  them.    In  this  Venice  expedition  I  had  an 
extra  consignment  of  kdies  in  charge.    I  sent  them  off  by 
a  light  boat  to  our  intended  hotel  (Daniele).     Afemme  de 
chambre,  who  knew  aU  her  mistress's  packages  by  sight, 
was  to  have  remained  with  me  to  identify  luggage,  but  in 
the  confusion,  mistaking  orders,  she  foUowed  her  mistress, 
and  so  I  stood-alone  in  chaos!  with  twenty-five  parcels 
(more  or  less,  larger  or  smaller)  to  look  after  and  extricate. 
I  wonder  how  I  survived  it. 

It  was  done,  however,  at  last.    My  pile  of  "  hardes  et 
lagages^'  got  together,  I  looked  out  of  the  raHway  station, 
Venice-wards.    But  no!  it  can't  be  Venice;    it's  all  a 
mistake-a  dream.    The  first  sound  which  greeted  my 
wondering  ear  was  an  inquiry  "  whether  I  wanted  an-— 
omnibus."     Yes,  "  omnibus"  was  the  word,  redolent  of 
"  the  land  of  Cockaigne,"  of  "  Temple  Bar,"  "  the  Bank, 
"Chelsea,"  everything  most  un^Venetim  in  creation.-- 
and  yet  my  ear  did  not  deceive  me.     "  An  omnibus 
is  Venetian  for  one  of  those  large  roomy  boats  which  are 
to  the  light  grax^eful  gondola  as  a  waggon  to  a  dennet. 
Of  course  I  wanted  one,  and  having  at  length  seen  all  my 
cargo  on  board,  I  embarked  at  about  ten  o'clock  at  night, 
in  pitchy  darkness,  to  traverse  the  network  of  minor  canals 
which  led  from  the  railway  to  the  heart  of  the  city. 

This  passage  waa  doubtless  inferior  to  the  transit  of  five 


N 


252 


»» 


GLEATTINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


TENICE. 


253 


miles  or  so  from  Maestro  or  Puscina,  yet  still  it  was  some- 
thing to  glide  along  silently  and  mysteriously  through 
these  dark  water-avenues  of  this  extraordinary  city.  The 
omnibus  boat  had  a  large,  roomy,  hurricane-house  cabin 
with  windows ;  it  was  lighted  by  one  glimmering  lamp, 
merely  sufficient  to  make  the  darkness  within  visible,  and 
the  palpable  obscure  without  more  dense  and  impenetrable. 
I  felt  rather  than  saw  that  I  was  passing  between  lines  of 
high  edifices ;  a  stifled  hum,  an  occasional  glimmer  through 
a  chink,  told  me  that  life  was  all  about  me,  as  I  passed  on 
in  a  deathlike  stillness,  only  broken  by  the  splash  of  the 
oar  and  the  strange  note  of  warning  to  anything  approach- 
ing with  which  the  Venetian  boatman  turns  a  comer. 
^  ^  Presently  glancing  lights  appeared  more  frequently — we 
passed  one  or  two  palazzos,  evidently  lighted  up  for  recep- 
tion of  guests — then  under  a  bridge,  in  which  I  at  once 
recognised  the  "Eialto" — then  we  passed  along  the  land- 
ing-place of  the  "  Piazzetta"  to  the  "  Hotel  Daniele,"  to  be 
hailed  with  the  intelligence  "  All  full,"  and  that  my  lady- 
friends  had  preceded  me  to  another  hotel — "full  also." 
Hotel-hunting  in  the  dark  is  a  pursuit  more  exciting  than 
agreeable ;  and  after  more  than  one  rejection,  we  were  all 
housed  at  the  "  Palazzo  Grassi"  ("  Hotel  dea  Empereurs"), 
at  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night. 

Some  of  our  large  party  shifted  quarters  next  day,  but  I 
and  mine,  engaging  a  set  of  snug  entresol  apartments, 
held  our  ground,  than  which  there  could  not  be  a  better 
for  seeing  to  advantage  the  city  scenery  of  Venice,  and 
studying,  as  in  a  Canaletti  picture,  whenever  we  looked 
out  of  a  window,  a  reach  of  the  Grand  Canal,  which  in- 
cluded some  of  its  most  arabesque  varieties  of  architecture. 


Before  us,  in  contrast,  lay  in  cold  Palladian  correctness 
the  church  of  the  "  Salute ;"  over  the  way  (I  mean  the 
water),  the  "Accademia;"  and,  not  far  off,  St.  Mark's, 
within  reach  of  either  a  stroll  or  a  glide — yes,  I  do  mean  a 
stroll,  for  you  may  stroll  about  Venice,  as  you  shall  hear, 
though  few  care  to  make  an  exertion,  which  all  should 
make,  who  wish  to  see  Venice  "  intus  et  in  cuteP 

Whether  the  Grassi  family  were  among  the  ancient 
magnificos  or  modem  nobility  of  Venice,  I  know  not,  but 
they  are  with  the  past,  and  have  left  a  magnificent  palace, 
in  which  the  passing  tourist  can  now  "  take  his  ease  as  his 
inn."  This  palazzo,  like  all  others  in  Venice,  is  raised  on 
a  solid  Etruscan  substructure,  of  which  the  foundation- 
piles  must  be  deep  driven  into  the  subsoil :  in  the  midst 
of  a  spacious  internal  court-yard  it  contains  a  weU  of 
pure  water  (a  rare  conveniency  in  Venice).  Ascending  a 
stately  staircase,  you  see  all  round  very  curious  represen- 
tations, not  ill  painted,  on  the  walls,  of  ancient  Venetian 
manners  and  costumes,  as  they  used  to  appear  in  the  old 
reunions ;  there  were  the  "  damas"  of  Venice,  who,  as 
their  English  libeller  said,  "let  Heaven,  but  not  their 
husbands,  see  their  pranks;"  there  were  the  masqued 
nobles  in  their  "proud  plainness"  of  black  domino,  but 
indulging  their  love  of  show,  in  the  gorgeous  gold  cloth 
adornments  of  their  attendant  menials  around,  as  we  some- 
times see  a  great  man  in  studied  simplicity  pacing  on  an 
ambling  pony,  while  his  groom  reins  in  a  "hundred 
guinea"  horse.  I  considered  it  quite  a  treat  to  be  able 
daily  to  look  on  these  shadows  of  the  "  olden  time,"  now 
that  the  reality  has  gone  by  for  ever. 

As  I  mean  to  eschew  most  religiously  aught  of  Venice 


254 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


VENICE. 


255 


whicli  can  be  better  read  in  "  Murray's,"  or  in  other  pro- 
fessional books  of  travel, — if  I  borrow  from  Byron  words 
wherewith  to  record  that 

"  I  stood  in  Venice  on  the  Bridge  of  Sighs," 

it  is  because  I  cannot  otherwise  or  better  give  my  own 
peculiar  impressions  of  my  visit  to  the  "  palace  and  prison 
on  each  hand." 

As  we  passed  through  the  ducal  halls,  rich  in  the  works 
of  the  Tintoretti  and  Paul  Veronese,  and  despoiled  of 
everything  else,  I  asked  our  guide  "  what  use  was  made  of 
the  palace  now  ?"  And  it  was  with  gnashing  teeth,  and 
bitter  emphasis,  that  he  replied :  "  Signor,  una  galleria 
'per  i  forestieri.^^  Yes — "  a  mere  gape-room  for  the 
stranger."  Truly  Venice  shall  no  more  be  called  "  a 
Lady  of  Kingdoms."  If  the  spirit  of  Frederick  Barba- 
rossa  could  look  on  the  present  state  of  the  proud  republic 
which  compelled  him,  on  the  threshold  of  St.  Mark's, 
to  kiss  the  toe  of  that  haughty  "  servant  of  servants," 
Pope  Alexander  III.,  it  would,  surely,  own  itself  appeased 
and  avenged.  We  passed  at  once  from  the  "  Hall  of 
Doom,"  over  the  famous  bridge,  into  the  now  empty  pri- 
sons, separated  from  the  palace  by  a  narrow  canal ;  and  it 
was  not  until  we  came  to  the  "  ouhliettes,^^  which,  as  our 
guide  assured  us,  lay  cased  deep  down  in  the  substructure 
forming  the  basis  of  every  building  in  Venice,  that  any 
noticeable  subject  of  conversation  arose. 

"  Here,"  said  the  guide,  conducting  us  into  a  small 
square  chamber,  lined  in  floor,  ceiling,  and  walls  all  with 
rough  timber — "  here  is  where  the  condemned  were  con- 
ducted after  sentence,  never  to  leave  it  until  they  went 


penitent  to  death;"  and  "ecco,  Signor"  (pointing  to  a 
small  square  aperture,  corresponding  to  a  niche  in  the 
wall  of  the  passage  outside),  "  after  entering  this  room  as 
condemned^  they  never  saw  any  light  again  but  from  a  lamp 
placed  there — no  nearer." 

The  room  was  clean  and  dry  ;  it  had  none  of  the  nasti- 
ness  which  we  are  accustomed  to  connect  with  an  under- 
ground or  under-water  dungeon.  It  reminded  me  (I 
know  not  why,  except  from  the  rough  planking)  of  the 
Lollards'  Eoom  in  Lambeth  Tower ;  but  it  made  an  im- 
pression of  more  pitiless,  hopeless,  mind-murdering  du- 
rance, than  I  had  ever  before  realised.  My  breathing 
came  thick,  as  I  began  to  caU  up  the  idea  of  some  victim 
of  "the  lion's  mouth"  wearing  out  his  days  here  until 
madness  or  death  came  to  his  relief,  and  I  asked  the  man : 

"  Did  the  condemned  always  confess  their  guilt  ?" 

"  You  see,  Signor,"  he  said,  "  our  Church  is  very  mer- 
ciful! it  never  allows  us  to  execute  a  man  until  he  feels 
and  owns  that  he  deserves  it;  they  all  do  it  sooner  or 
later. ''^ 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  a  man  might  say  anything  to  get  out 
of  this  dreadful  place :  suppose  a  man  innocent — suppose 

that  he  confessed  in  mere  desperation "  I  don't  know 

whether  I  conveyed  myself  fully  to  him,  for  he  caught  at 
the  word  desperation — 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  have  often  had  disperati  here  for  a  week 
or  so ;  they  dash  their  heads  against  the  walls,  and  do  other 
impolite  things  {cose  di  discortesia).  You  see,  Signor,  we 
have  these  boards  to  prevent  them  from  injuring  them- 
selves ;  but  they  all  soon  get  quiet,  then  sullen,  and,  in  fine, 
they  all  confess  at  lastT^ 


256 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0TIE"-ISTS. 


^n 


In  short,  I  found  that  this  boasted  mercy  was  but  another 
name  for  "  peine  forte  et  dure"— a  disguised  rack ;  another 
variety  of  that  inquisitorial  process  which  compels  a  man 
to  accuse  himself  to  get  freed  from  the  extremity  of  un- 
endurable torture.  I  made  a  fruitless  attempt  to  explain 
to  the  Venetian  the  rule  of  English  justice,  which  "  holds 
every  man  innocent  until  proved  guilty,"  and  "compels 
no  man  to  accuse  or  convict  himself,"— but  he  evidently 
could  not  take  in  the  idea  at  all. 

As  we  returned  over  the  "  Bridge  of  Sighs,"  I  paused 
for  a  moment  on  the  crown  of  the  arch  to  examine  the  ex- 
quisite stonework  tracery  of  a  little  window  which  lights 
the  covered  way ;  and  through  the  tube  of  the  dark  canal, 
as  through  a  telescope,  came  from  the  sunny  world  beyond 
a  passing  glimpse  of  all  that  is  most  beautiful  in  Venice. 
As  I  looked,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  name  of  this  fatal 
passage  might  be  derived  from  the  sensation  which  a 
passing  look  through  this  aperture  was  sure  to  produce 
on  the  fated  wretches  who  passed  by  it  to  their  doom.  It 
was  here,  for  example,  that  the  wretched  younger  "  Fos- 
cari,"  brought  up  from  the  choking  dungeons  below,  might 
well  have  uttered  that  exclamation  of  anguished  "  amoi^ 
patricB"'  which  Byron  puts  into  his  mouth : 

"  Oh,  Venice ! 
My  beautiful — my  own — 
My  only  Venice, — this  is  breath  ! — thy  breeze, 
Thine  Adrian  sea-breeze— how  it  fans  my  cheek." 

This  thought,  which  came  upon  me  as  I  paused  on  the 
fatal  arch,  pursued  me  to  the  entresol  of  the  Palazzo  Grassi ; 
and  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  as  I  leaned  from  the  window 


VENICE. 


257 


into  the  lovely  sunset  view  before  me,  found  form  and 
utterance  as  follows : 


The  "  Bridgb  op  Siohs" — well  named ;  for  there, 

As  wretches  mount  that  fatal  stair 

Leading  to  judgment,  when  a  breath 

Or  whispered  charge  may  doom  to  death, 

Full  on  the  vision  which  has  grown 

All  torpid  in  its  cell  of  stone, 

Up  the  long  vista  warmly  streaming 

Comes  sunlight  on  the  window  gleaming, 

And  through  the  sculptured  stonework  glows 

Where  in  the  distance  Venice  shows 

An  ocean  queen,  enwreathed  in  smiles, 

And  throned  upon  her  countless  isles. 

What  victim  in  such  torturing  hour, 

Held  in  the  grasp  of  despot  power. 

Could  look  his  last  on  sea,  earth,  sky, 

And  see  them  pass  without — a  sigh  ? 

Palazzo  Grassi,  May  25,  1851. 

Even  if  his  Memoir  had  not  told  us  that  Forsyth  had 
been  a — schoolmaster !  I  think  I  should  have  guessed  it, 
from  the  classic  terseness  of  his  style,  the  reference  of  all 
he  saw  to  some  classic  standard  of  excellence,  and  his  utter 
want  of  appreciation  for  anything  picturesque !  I  question 
much  if  he  did  not  consider  a  flight  of  fancy,  or  a  capricio 
of  genius,  rather  as  a  "bounds-breaking "  to  be  punished 
with  the  ferula,  than  a  beauty  to  be  admired.  He  has  left 
us  an  admirable  and  condensed  classic  handbook  ;  but  let 
none  trust  him  as  a  guide  to  aught  of  mediaeval  or  romantic 
interest,  for  he  will  be  sure  to  pass  them  with  slighting  or 
contemptuous  remark.  Had  I  received  as  infallible  that 
dash  of  his  pen  with  which  he  disposes  of  "  the  glaring 
mosaics''  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  I  should  have  overlooked 

s 


258 


GLE^lNINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


one  of  the  most  curious  features  of  that  picturesque  edifice, 
"  neither  Greek,  Gothic,  nor  Saracenic,"  but  a  mixture  of 
them  all,  and  therefore  the  fitter  style  for  the  chief  church 
of  a  city  of  which  the  mingled  glories  included  trophies 
won  at  intervals  from  Greek,  Goth,  and  Saracen  alike. 

The  mosaics  of  St.  Mark's,  so  far  from  being  ''glaring'' 
in  colour,   are  remarkably  subdued,  while  their  quaint 
designs  and  mottoes  should  give  them  great  interest  to 
those  curious  in  these  works.     Comparing  them   with 
others  of  a  known  date  in  Eome,  I  would  set  them  down 
as  of  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century,  notwithstanding 
that  a  date  to  a  mosaic  figure  of  Christ  in  the  apsis  gives 
"  Mcccccvi.  V«ttu0  F,"  which  may  be  correct  as  to  this 
single  piece ;  but  it  seems  clearly  of  a  more  modern  fashion 
than  the  rest,  of  which  the  grotesque  conceptions  and 
mottoes  in  quaint  monkish  rhymes  exceed  all  description. 
I  wonder  whether  they  have  ever  been  copied  ?     It  would 
be  a  labour  of  months,  rendered  more  difficult  by  the 
dim  light,  the  straining  of  the  neck,  and  the  curious  abbre- 
viations  of  the  legends.     To  the  designs  of  these  mosaics, 
iUustrating  ante  and  post-diluvian  records,  such  as  "  The 
Creation,"  the  command  to  be  "  fruitful  and  multiply,"  (! !) 
"  The  Deluge,"  "  Babel  Building,"  and  such  like,  no  pen 
could  do  justice ;  and  the  hurin  of  Richard  Doyle,  cutting 
medieval  antics,  could  not  out- caricature  them.     The  sa- 
crifice  of  Cain  and  Abel  is  thus  weU  mottoed : 

"  Abel  Christus  cemit, 
Kaynus  sua  mimera  spemit." 

The  four  guardian  saints  of  Venice,  "  St.  Nicholaus,"  St. 


VENICE. 


259 


Peter,  St.  Mark,  St. 
in  the  following  : 


(name  unintelligible),  are  lauded 


(( 


Hos  quatuor  Jure  fuit  hie  proponere  cur  ? 

Corporibus  quorum 

Precellit  Honor  Venetonim 

His  viget,  his  crescit, 

Terraque,  Marique  nitesdt, 

Integer  et  invictus, 

Situs  his  nunquamque  relictus ;" 


while  the  figure  of  the  Redeemer  is  'garnished  with  this 
exhortation  to  the  still  spared  sinner : 

"  Sub,  rex  cunctorum 
Caro  factus  amore  reorum 
Ne  desperetis, 
Venie  dum  tempus  habetis." 

These  are  but  few  of  the  many  quaintnesses,  hastily  copied 
during  a  hasty  visit ;  but  I  much  wonder  that  I  have  not 
seen  in  any  book  of  travels  other  notice  of  these  curious 
mosaics  besides  Eorsyth's  disparaging  remark. 

"  Didst  ever  see  a  gondola  ?"  Whether  you  have  or  not, 
I  won't  pretend  to  paint  what  you  may  find  in  Byron's 
"  Beppo,"  described  to  the — life  I  was  going  to  say,  but 
more  correctly,  to  the — "  mourning  coach"  style  of  fitting 
up,  which  Venetian  sumptuary  law  prescribes  for  its  light 
and  singular  "cab  of  the  canal."  I  will  only  notice  two 
features  of  this  necessary  of  life  in  Venice :  one  is  that 
fanciful  and  graceful  prow  which,  with  a  dim  and  far-off" 
resemblance  to  the  erect  and  arching  neck  of  a  sea-snake, 
cuts  the  water  without  sending  off"  a  ripple  at  either  side ; 
it  is  made  of  polished  steel  or  iron,  and  it  seems  a  point 
of  gondola  dandyism  to  keep  it  always  bright  and  bur- 

s2 


260 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0XJE"-I8TS. 


nished.  It  is  obviously  a  remnant  of  the  high  prow  of 
the  ancient  war-galley,  now  converted  at  once  into  an 
ornament  and* a  means  of  rendering  direct  collisions  harm- 
less. Should  two  gondolas  meet  prow  to  prow,  each  glides 
by  the  other  stately  and  swan-like,  and  as  smoothly  as 
the  polished  blades  of  a  pair  of  scissors.  The  result  would 
be  very  different,  however,  should  one  take  the  other  on 
the  quarter  or  side ;  in  such  case  the  prow  would  be  apt 
to  cut  through  the  frail  vessel  it  struck  like  a  knife.  But 
this,  probably,  is  an  amount  of  awkwardness  which  the 
expert  gondolier  dismisses  as  impossihle  ;  and,  indeed,  the 
warning  and  precautionary  cry  with  which  these  singular 
vessels  round  the  corners  of  their  tortuous  and  right-angled 
canals,  almost  amounts  to  absolute  security  against  such 

an  accident. 

The  grace  and  rapidity  with  which  the  gondolier  pro- 
pels his  vessel  has  often  been  noticed.  I  know  of  no 
exercise  better  calculated  to  exhibit  fine  shape,  and 
graceful,  manly  action  to  advantage,  than  the  rowing  of  a 
gondola ;  but  I  have  never  seen  noticed  the  peculiarity  of 
action  which  enables  a  single  man  with  one  oar,  not  used 
in  sculling,  but  over  the  vessel's  side,  to  keep  the  gondola 
in  a  course  perfectly  straight  and  sufficiently  rapid. 
Should  one  of  our  watermen  wish  to  work  a  small  boat 
alone  and  with  one  oar,  he  "  sculls  it"— that  is,  he  works 
over  the  stern  with  an  action  corresponding  to  that  of  the 
tail-fin  of  a  fish ;  but  the  Venetian  gondolier  works  his 
craft  by  a  totally  different  process,  with  a  compound 
action  of  his  oar,  exhibiting  much  more  ingenuity,  and 
requiring  much  nicer  and  more  scientific  management 
than  the  downright  working  of  the  sculler.    The  gondolier 


VENICE. 


261 


accomplishes  his  purpose  by  means  of  the  peculiar  forma- 
tion of  what,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  we  must  term  the 
"rullock,"  or  "row-lock,"  in  which  his  oar  works.  This 
is  a  piece  of  wood  of  a  remarkable  and  not  easily  described 
Shape,  more  like  the  Greek  f  than  anything  I  can  now  re- 
member. It  is  removable  at  pleasure  from  larboard  to 
starboard  side ;  it  must  be  of  tough  fibre,  and  the  tortuous 
groove  in  which  the  oar  works  must  be  smoothed  and 
polished  with  the  greatest  nicety,  for  on  the  free  action  of 
tJie  oar  in  this  groove  the  true  and  easy  motion  of  the 
vessel  depends.  It  forms  a  shifting  pivot,  hy  which  the 
plane  in  which  the  blade  of  the  oar  moves  is  changed  con- 
tinually in  the  course  of  every  impulse  the  gondolier  gives  to 
his  vessel.  I  can  go  no  further  in  description ;  the  in- 
strument and  process  must  be  seen  to  be  understood. 
The  gondolier  stands  to  his  work,  looking  forwards,  and 
like  other  Italian  boatmen,  pushes  (instead  of  pulling)  his 
oar ;  but  in  all  other  respects  the  action  of  gondoliering 
differs  from  any  other  mode  of  rowing  I  ever  saw. 

On  one  occasion,  having  rowed  under  the  "  Bridge  of 
Sighs,"  along  that  fatal  channel 

"  whose  gloomy  deep 
Never  fisher's  net  dared  sweep," 

having  gazed  and  shuddered  at  that  "small  and  low- 
browed door"  in  the  frowning  palace  wall,  from  whence 
(as  the  gondolier's  tradition  whispered)  the  state  victim 
used  to  be  shot  forth  into  the  secret-keeping  depths  below, 
in  order  to  make  an  excursion  in  keeping  with  this  tale  of 
horrors,  we  desired  the  man  to  guide  us  through  some  of 
the  back  ways  of  the  city,  that  we  might  see  something 


262 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0TJE"-ISTS. 


TENICE. 


263 


more  of  the  real  life  of  its  population  than  the  domino- 
plajring,  coffee-sipping  habitues  of  the  Piazza  di  San  Marco 
could  exhibit. 

He  guided  the  gondola  through  water-lanes  and  defiles 
of  which  I  could  have  formed  no  previous  conception — the 
squalid  black  decay  of  the  tall,  prison-like  houses;  the 
ink-like  hue  of  the  water-way;  the  icy  silence,  seldom 
broken  except  by  the  dip  and  drip  of  the  oar ;  and  the 
unearthly  cry  of  warning  as  we  turned  a  corner,  echoed, 
perhaps,  from  another  coffin-like  barque  passing  us  by — 
all  these  formed  an  ensemble  never  to  be  forgotten.  I  was 
disappointed  at  the  few,  very  few  signs  of  human  life 
about  us.  Once  a  washerwoman  singing  at  her  tub  made 
an  event.  Again,  I  remember,  we  came  on  a  carpenter, 
and  as  he  planed  his  block  at  the  open  door  the  shavings 
fell  over  from  his  hand  into  the  canal,  and  a  step  too  far 
would  precipitate  the  workman  himself  into  a  cold  and 
dirty  bath.  But  with  these  exceptions,  of  stirring  life  we 
saw  scarce  anything,  though  our  gondolier  assured  us  that 
there  was  a  teeming  population  in  every  house.  "We  soon 
had  enough  of  this  Italian  copy  of  Dickens's  vivid  picture 
of  Jacob's  Island  and  the  Folly  Ditch,  in  "  Oliver  Twist," 
and  we  begged  to  be  rowed  out  as  soon  as  possible  into 
light  and  life  again. 

I  made  another  excursus  out  of  the  usual  highway  of 
visitors,  by  setting  off  one  morning  to  make  my  way 
"  over  land"  from  our  hotel  to  "  St.  Marco's,"  taking  my 
bearings  as  to  the  direction  as  well  as  I  could.  I  then 
plunged  into  a  network  of  defiles,  to  which,  as  some  one 
correctly  says,  old  Cranbourne-alley  would  be  quite  a 
"  Via  Lata."    I  wound  my  way  through  narrows — turned 


back  from  unexpected  '' culs-de-sac;'  and  occasionally 
crossed  little  flagged  areas  in  front  of  smaU  secluded 
churches,  where  the  infant  population  of  Venice  tumbled 
and  toddled  about  in  a  safe  and  sunny  independence, 
which  led  me  to  think  that  the  little  areas  aforesaid  must 
have  been  invented  to  save  the  childhood  of  Venice  from 
losing  the  use  of  their  limbs  in  inaction.  It  was  a  bad 
substitute  for  free  air  and  daisied  meadow,  but  better  than 
nothing,  and  the  total  absence  of  cart,  vehicle,  horse,  or 
other  sign  of  business,  gave  the  region  a  kind  of  home 
look,  as  though  the  whole  were  but  the  inner  court-yards 
and  passages  of  some  great  establishment.  I  should  add, 
that  all  was  perfectly  clean,  dry,  and  sunny,  the  canals 
serving,  I  suppose,  as  the  cloacae  of  the  city. 

The  seeming  domesticity  of  the  whole  affair  was  ren- 
dered more  like  by  the  curious  familiar  advertisements  of 
various  kinds  affiches  to  the  walls.  Among  others,  I  saw 
little  handbills  apparently  intended  to  answer  the  same 
purpose  as  our  newspaper  obituaries.  One,  as  I  remember, 
announced  that "  Ludovico  Cassaris,"  aged  58,  died  of  fever 
on  a  specified  day, "  at  Vesper  hour  precisely."  His  virtues 
were  carefully  catalogued,  the  number  of  his  children,  the 
grief  of  his  widow,  and  "  the  prayers  of  all  good  Christians 
for  his  repose,"  were  earnestly  requested.  This  announce- 
ment had  been  attracting  the  passer-by  for  about  three 
weeks  before  I  read  it. 

Another  droll  variety  of  advertisement  appears  to  be  an 
adaptation  of  the  "  Warren  Blacking  puff"  to  the  purpose 
of  singing  the  praises  of  "parish  priests."  I  should  be 
disposed  to  think  that  popular  choice  must  have  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  nomination  of  these  gentlemen,  for  I 


264 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GRAND  TOTTE^-ISTS. 


saw  several  of  what  we  would  call  in  England  "  election 
squibs"  marked  on  the  walls,  not  in  chalk,  but  in  lampblack* 

**  Siipport  Padre  V ^,"   "  Maintain  il  excellentissimo 

Padre  N ,"  were  the  remains  of  some  bygone  parochial 

contest;  and  in  one  parish  which  I  passed  through  I 
should  say  the  parishioners  were  very  little  disposed  to 
have  the  excitement  of  a  "  contested  election  renewed,*' 
for  at  intervals  upon  the  walls  the  good-will  of  the  people 
to  their  pastor  was  neatly  stereotyped  to  the  following 
effect : 


Dio  noi 

conserve 

lungamente 

nostro 

excellentissimo 

pievano 


while  here  and  there  looked  forth  as  a  warning  of  frequent 
occurrence  on  the  Italian  blank  wall,  "  Iddio  te  vede^^ — 
(God  sees  thee).  Upon  the  whole,  when  I  emerged  at  last 
upon  the  busy  region  of  the  "  Piazza  di  San  Marco,"  I  had 
obtained  an  interesting  view  of  the  interior  life  of  Venice, 
which  I  think  travellers  seldom  care  to  look  after. 

For  a  "  recordanza"  we  determined  to  bring  away  a 
"measure  or  two"  of  the  famous  Venetian  gold  chain 
which  is  one  of  its  celebrities,  and  landing  at  the  Eialto 
(why  do  retailers  of  jewellery  always  establish  themselves 
on  bridges,  as  here,  and  on  the  Ponte  Vecchio  at  Florence  ?), 
we  asked  our  way  to  the  manufactory  of  the  article,  being 
as  anxious  to  see  the  process  of  making  this  celebrated 
chain  as  to  possess  a  sample. 


VENICE, 


265 


I  wore  to  my  watch  a  good,  solid,  John  Bullish  specimen 
of  the  "  curb-chain  pattern,"  well  wrought,  and  a  costly 
thing  in  its  day.  I  intimated  my  wish  to  exchange  it  for 
some  of  their  manufacture,  to  which  "i  fabricatori"  ex- 
pressed assent,  and  an  intention  to  allow  me  its  value 
"according  to  the  quality  of  the  goW^  I  gave  them  my 
chain,  and  as  it  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  it  was  evident, 
that  while  they  admired  its  workmanship,  it  was  equally 
clear  that  for  the  alloyed  material  they  entertained  a  more 
t\\QXL '' sovereign''  contempt.  It  was,  they  said,  greatly 
debased,  and  would  never  do  for  their  manufacture,  the 
whole  secret  and  value  of  which  consists  in  the  virgin 
purity  of  the  gold  used,  with  seemingly  no  mixture  of  alloy 
whatever.  To  test  this,  they  used  a  very  simple  experi- 
ment. A  common  sandstone  was  produced,  a  few  particles 
of  my  chain  were  rubbed  on  the  rough  surface,  and  also  a 
few  particles  of  the  minute  gold-wire  they  were  soldering 
into  links  at  the  moment.  Upon  the  application  of  a  drop 
of  vitriolic  acid  to  each,  the  English  article  showed  a 
greenish  effervescing  result,  while  the  Venetian  material 
remained  perfectly  unaffected  by  the  application.  I  was 
obliged  to  own  the  debasing  effect  with  which  the  spirit  of 
trade  could  cause  even  "  fine  gold  to  become  dim,"  and  the 
necessity  of  purchasing  some  yards  of  the  unadulterated 
chain  became  immediately  obvious  to  my  daughters,  but 
whether  it  will  ''wear  as  tveir  as  the  article  given  (with 
sundry  balancing  Napoleons)  in  exchange,  is  a  matter 
which  remains  to  be  proved. 

And  now  what  more  shall  I  say  ? — shall  I  try  to  prove 
myself  a  connoisseur  in  painting,  upon  the  simple  plan  laid 


d06^ 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GRAND  T0IJE'*-ISTS. 


down  by  poor  Q-oldsmith,  who  said  that  nothing  more  was 
necessary  than  to  observe  that  "  more  pains  would  have 
made  a  better  picture,"  and  "to  praise  Perugino."  Shall 
I  begin  to  criticise  the  "  Pietro  Martire,'*  or  the  "Assump- 
tion" of  Titian  ?  "No ;  we  must  hasten  from  Venice,  and 
I  shall  take  my  readers  to  but  one  gallery  there,  and  that 
not  for  the  purpose  of  teasing  them  with  details  of  its 
mstas  of  glorious  paintings — for  they  are  glorious — but  to 
mourn  over  the  faded,  deserted,  comfortless  aspect  of  the 
"  Palazzo  Manfrini  "  and  its  furniture,  which  looked  as  if 
every  broker  in  Soho  had  selected  his  shabbiest  and  oldest 
article  of  bygone  vertu,  and  contributed  it  to  furnish  the 
whole  set-out.  It  was  the  just  emblem  of  the  fading  city, 
to  which  no  repairing  or  cleansing  hand  would  seem  to 
have  been  applied  within  the  century,  if  we  except,  indeed, 
one  or  two  palazzos,  which  I  suppose  to  have  fallen  to 
Taglioni,  the  dancer,  as  "  dead  bargains,"  and  which  were 
undergoing  repairs,  probably  with  a  view  to  re-selling  them 
as  a  "matter  of  business."  Prom  a  doge  to  a  dancer! 
Strange  transition,  and  yet  not  out  of  character.  We  saw 
the  "  Palazzo  d'Oro,"  by  the  Eialto,  under  the  hands  of 
the  gilder  and  plasterer, — to  be  paid  by  the  profits  of 
pirouettes  and  stage  exhibition. 

Except  those  who  deliberately  sit  down  to  a  residence, 
or  to  write  a  book,  ten  days  seems  the  limit  of  any  stay  at 
Venice.  We  left  in  the  afternoon  of  our  eighth  day,  and 
as  we  whirled  towards  Padua  I  found  myself  guessing 
among  the  palazzos  on  the  Brenta,  for  "  Portia's  house  of 
Belmont,"  and  thinking  how  much  better  a  railway  would 
have  suited  for  playing  the  jest  with  which  the  charming 


TEincE. 


267 


owner  and  her  maid  Nerissa  perplex  their  husbands,  than 
a  passage 

"  By  the  tranect,  the  common  ferrj', 
Which  trades  to  Venice," 

but  which  now  will  never  trade  there  more.  The  palazzos 
of  the  Brenta  are  a  fitting  avenue  of  approach  to  the  de- 
caying city; — the  same  stamp  of  desolation  and  decay 
seems  to  belong  to  all  alike. 


\ 


268  GLEAimiGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  TOrS^-ISTS. 


"  VOTIT^  TABELLiE. 


»> 


269 


CHAPTEE  XV. 


(( 


VOTIVJE   TABELL^. 


it 


"  Votiva  pateat  veluti  descripta  Tabella 
Prodigia  Sanctis 

Hob.  Variat. 

"  Sancto  sapient!  pib  potent!  tremendo 
Magno  mirabili 

Ter  sancto 

Antonio  Paduano 

Pientissimo  post  Deum  ejusque  Yirginem  Matrem 

Protector!  et  sospetatorL" 

Inscription  on  a  Votive  Tablet  in  St  Anthony's 
Churchy  Padua, 

The  materials  of  this  chapter  have  been  accumulating 
in  my  note-book,  ever  since  we  came  within  the  regions  of 
Eomanism  in  fully  developed  action.  And  I  know  no 
place  in  our  "yiro"  of  Italy  in  which  a  connected  notice 
of  them  will  so  fitly  come  in  as  when  we  sojourn  in  the 
proper  habitat  of  the  "  Taumaturgo,^^  the  "wonder-worker 
of  Italy,"  "Saint  Anthony  of  Padua,'*  to  whose  honour 
more  absurdities  of  paint  and  sculpture  have  been  perpe- 
trated and  dedicated,  than  to,  probably,  all  the  other  saints 
of  the  calendar  together. 

The  "  devotisstmi  Padovani,^^  as  they  delight  to  call 


themselves,  have  not  only  raised  a  stupendous  Basilica  to 
this  saint,  but  they  have  hung  that  compartment  of  it 
specially  devoted  to  his  honour  as  thick  as  the  walls  admit 
with  votive  tablets  of  every  size  and  shape,  which  could 
glorify  this  "  super  potent  perpetrator  of  prodigies"  ("pro- 
digiorim patratori  potentissimo''),  as  an  inscription  on  one 
of  these  "  tabellae"  aUiteratively  styles  him. 

There  are,  we  doubt  not,  numbers  of  people  in  this  un- 
suspecting English  world  of  ours,  who  never  think  of  the 
stories  of  "  St.  Anthony  and  the  Eishes,"  and  "  St.  Anthony 
and  the  Mule,"  except  as  of  exploded  fables  dating  from 
those  ages  of  mediaeval  credulity,  the  absurdities  of  which 
it  would  be  unfair  to  charge  upon  the  advanced  and 
enlightened  Church  of  modem  Italy.  We  have  our  grave 
fears  that  these  unsuspecting  people  may  find  some  day 
that  even  among  themselves  the  spirit  of  mediaeval  credulity 
has  been  "not  dead,  but  sleeping;"  even  in  England 
symptoms  show  themselves  now  and  again,  as  if  wily  and 
wary  watchers  of  the  state  of  the  public  mind  thought 
that  they  might  safely  reproduce,  not  for  derision  but  for 
credence,  fables  and  figments  similar  to  those  uninter- 
ruptedly held  in  devout  acceptance  in  those  happy  lands 
which  still  roll  in  their  orbits  in  contented  attraction  round 
Eome  as  their  centre. 

But  let  such  people  go  to  Padua,  and  they  will  find  St. 
Anthony's  "  Sermon  to  the  Fish"  published  in  all  the  free- 
dom of  a  free  press  for  the  edification  of  the  faithful,  and 
his  triumph  over  asinine  credulity  stereotyped  in  all  the 
efi'ectiveness  of  the  bronze  of  Donatello ;  they  may  there 
read  how  St.  Anthony,  six  hundred  years  ago,  finding  the 
people  of  Eimini  insensible  to  his  preaching,  betook  him- 


\i 


270 


GLEANINaS  ATTEE  "  GEAKD  T0TTB'*-ISTS. 


a 


VOTIV-S  TABELL2E. 


)) 


271 


self  to  the  embouchure  of  the  Marecchia,  and  there  called 
the  fish  to  hear  the  Holy  Word  of  God,  "  whereupon,"  con- 
tinues the  legend,  "the  fish"  (both  sea  and  fresh-water!) 
came  in  shoals,  and  "  ranged  themselves  according  to  their 
species  into  a  beautiful  congregation  (con  belli  ordine!), 
to  which  attentive  auditory  St.  Anthony  began  a  grave, 
well-arranged  discourse  concerning  Good's  manifold  good- 
ness to  them,  reminding  them  of  this,  as  not  their  least 
mercy,  that  they  had  neither  been  drowned  nor  suffered 
any  of  the  other  inconveniences  of  the  deluge  ! — (Voi  solo 
non  sentisti  il  deluvio  universale  delV  acque,  nan  provosti  il 
danni,  cJie  egli  face  al  mondo) — and  calling  on  them  in 
conclusion  to  express  their  thanks  in  the  best  manner  they 
could !" 

"  As  he  spoke,"  continued  this  veracious  legend,  "  oh  wondrous !  as 
though  the  fish  were  endued  with  human  intelligence,  with  most  profound 
humility,  and  every  semblance  of  devotion,  they  bowed  their  heads,  and 
moved  their  bodies  approvingly  (chinarono  la  testa— hlandiro  col  corpo), 
as  though  assenting  to  the  discourse  of  the  blessed  Saint  Anthony." 

The  whole  sermon,  a  marvel  of  pulpit  eloquence  of  its 
kind  (taken  down,  doubtless,  by  some  listening  "  phoca" 
as  short-hand  reporter),  may  be  had  for  a  paul  or  two  from 
the  sacristan  of  St.  Anthony's  own  chapel,  so  that,  of 
course,  of  the  authenticity  of  the  sermon,  or  reality  of  the 
miracle,  no  doubt  can  be  entertained,  save  by  the  wilfully 
obstinate  in  unbelief. 

The  difficulty  of  giving  that  chief  point  of  the  miracle, 
the  "  bowing"  and  "  fondling"  of  the  fish,  has  prevented 
its  being  commemorated  in  a  "tabella,"  but  no  such  diffi- 
culty  presented  itself  in  the  case  of  the  Adoring  Mule,  and 
accordingly,  we  find  this  last  prodigy  among  the  "preziosi 


lavori  del  BonatelW  which  adorn  the  chapel  of  the  "  Holy 
Sacrament,"  and  the  book  of  description  tells  the  story 
thus,  in  sequence  to  the  Miracle  of  the  Fishes : 

''  The  wondrous  miracle  wrought  by  St.  Anthony,  when  he  called  the 
fish  to  hear  him,  should  have  brought  all  the  people  of  Rimini  to  their 
senses.  But  there  was  in  that  city  one  mulish  fellow,  named  BonviUo^ 
who  denied  the  real  presence  of  Christ  in  the  Eucharistic  bread.  At  last 
he  declared  that  nothing  would  convince  him  until  his  mule  adored  the 
Host  The  saint  accepted  the  challenge,  and  prefaced  his  victory  by  a 
three  days'  fast !  The  heretic  also  kept  his  beast  from  food.  The  great 
day  arrived,  and  with  it  a  vast  concourse  of  spectators.  St.  Anthony 
came  forth  from  the  church — Bonvillo  awaited  him  in  the  piazza.  The 
saint,  carrying  the  Thrice  Holy  Host,  drew  near,  and  instantaneously 
the  mule  knelt  down.  Bonvillo  in  vain  endeavoured  and  pressed  the 
animal  to  turn  to  provender ;  the  beast  remained  immovable,  and  thus 
condemned  the  mcredulity  of  his  master,  and  in  his  mute  language 
prayed  him  to  retract  his  obstinate  denial." 

This  is  but  odo  of  the  many  legends  contained  in  a  little 
volume  printed  at  "  Padova,  coi  tipi  di  A.  Bianchi,  1849," 
and  which  I  purchased  in  the  church  of  the  saint  from  the 
sacristan  on  the  day  of  my  visit ;  and  it  seems  to  furnish  a 
fitting  introduction  to  the  consideration  of  these  strange 
relics  of  exploded  heathenism—which  the  Church  of  Eome 
seems  to  have  adopted,  in  seeming  unconsciousness  how 
strongly  they  confirm  the  charge  so  often  urged  as  to  "  the 
close  conformity  of  modern  Popery  to  ancient  Paganism." 
"  Our  Church  must  accommodate  itself  to  natures  and 
circumstances."  — "We  would  not  insult  the  educated 
Northern  intellect  with  the  materialities  which  we  are 
obliged  to  allow  to  the  gross  sensualism  of  the  Neapoli- 
tans." *     Such  was  the  excuse  or  explanation  with  which 

*  A  very  short  intercourse  with  the  Romans  will  show  the  slight  re- 
gard in  which  they  hold  both  the  mental  and  physical  quaUties  of  their 
Neapolitan  neighbours,  for  whose  intellect,  courage,  and  tastes,  they 


272 


a 


i» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  *'  GRAND  TOUR   -ISTS. 


a  Eoman  Monsignor  adroitly  met  my  statement  of  some 
grossierete  I  had  noticed  in  the  religious  observances  of 
Naples.  The  compliment  to  Northern  acuteness  was  in- 
geniously thrown  in ;  but  though  the  fume  of  the  incense 
failed  to  confuse  my  perception  of  the  incompatibility  of 
the  adaptive  power  thus  boasted  with  any  real  unalterable 
standard  of  the  true  or  the  good,  yet  it  fully  accorded  with 
an  observation  made  before  and  afterwards,  namely,  that 
as  we  Northerns  advanced  southwards  towards  its  centre, 
the  observances  of  the  Eoman  Church  showed  themselves 
in  more  unchecked  offence  to  our  own  ideas  and  religious 
usages — that  the  food  with  which  the  popular  mind  was 
fed  became  more  homogeneous,  and  grossly  material  in 
character.  Thus,  by  degrees,  the  wayside  cross  became  a 
''crucifix;'''  and  by-aud-by  "a  Calvary,"  with  all  its 
"properties"  of  "  tie  ladder ;'  "  the  pincers"  "  the  nails,'' 
"  the  hammer,''  and  sometimes  "  the  cock !"  (whose  crow- 
ing recalled  Peter  to  thought  and  weeping),  began  to 
appear  in  all  the  effectiveness  ^of  caricature  and  vermilion 
paint ;  but  it  was  not  until  we  came  so  far  south  as  Mar- 
seilles that  we  lighted  on  those  "  Votive  Tallets,"  which 
Dickens  encountered  at  Avignon,  a  few  stages  to  the 
northward.  It  would  appear,  to  use  a  geological  illustra- 
tion, that  as  rocks  become  changed  and  modified  in  struc- 

seem  to  have  the  lowest  possible  estimation.  During  our  sojourn  it  was 
rumoured  that  the  French  were  about  to  evacuate  Rome,  and  that  his 
Holiness  intended  to  trust  his  safety  to  the  devotion  and  valour  of  King 
Bomba  and  his  forces.  Even  under  the  stem  rule  of  the  restored  Papacy 
the  Romans  could  scarce  conceal  their  contemptuous  exultation  at  the 
thought  of  having  the  mere  Neapolitans  to  deal  with,  and  even  the  Pope's 
immediate  attendants  looked  blank  at  the  prospect  of  being  left  to  the  pro- 
tection of  "  the  best-dressed  array  in  Europe !" 


(( 


VOTIViE  TABELL^. 


ii 


273 


ture  within  a  certain  distance  of  their  point  of  contact 
with  other  formations,  so  the  Church  of  Eome  owns  an 
indirect,  influence  of  the  spirit  of  Protestantism  in  the 
gradual  decorum  with  which  she  represses  observances 
everywhere  glaring  and  protruded  within  her  own  realms 
of  unwatched  operation.  There  is  an  indirect  tribute  paid 
to  the  mental  freedom  and  acuteness  of  the  North  in 
the  "  bated"  simplicity  of  practice  and  ritual  with  which 
Eomanism  carries  itself  under  the  keen  eye  and  protest- 
ing surveillance  of  those  of  the  Eeformed  Churches ;  to 
which  may  be  added,  as  a  generally  recognised  fact,  that 
the  Church  of  Eome  would  rather  bare  its  breast  to  a 
whole  platoon  of  polemic  divinity,  than  to  one  dart  of  sar- 
casm against  those  usages  which,  seemingly  of  her  essence, 
are  so  provocative  of  ridicule  to  those  who  disown  her 
influence. 

The  "  Votive  Tablet"  is  clearly  of  heathen  origin  and  on 
classic  record,  and  is  one  among  the  "assets"  which  the 
system  to  which  it  now  belongs,  has  inherited  from  that 
exploded  paganism,  in  whose  seat  it  sits,  and  many  of 
whose  usages  it  apes  or  copies.  Charles  Dickens,  while 
holding  up  these  "  Votos"  upon  the  point  of  his  satiric  pen, 
makes  this  excuse  for  them :  that  they  result  from  the 
"  Christian  virtues  of  gratitude  and  devotion."  True — 
gratitude  and  devotion  are  essentially  Christian  virtues — 
but  a  further  examination  of  the  subject  might  have  led 
him  to  a  conclusion  that  as  "  the  best  things  perverted 
become  the  worst,"  so  the  working  of  a  system  which 
sanctions  the  diversion  of  gratitude  and  devotion  from 
" Him"  in  whose  care  "the  hairs  of  his  people's  heads  are 
numbered"  to  imaginary  protectors,  who  come  "sailing 

T 


274 


»> 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


into  a  sick  room  upon  a  cloud,"  there  to  superintend  the 
amputation  of  a  toe,  "  or  the  curing  of  a  cut  finger,"  can 
scarce  be  as  "harmless"  as,  in  his  charity,  he  would  wish 

to  think  it. 

I  was  neither  looking  for  Votive  Tablets  nor  any  other 
matter  for  criticism  in  the  Eoman  system,  when  (camera 
lucida  in  hand)  I  began  to  climb  the  steep  hill,  crowned 
with  the  "  beacon-like  fortress"  which  commands  the  town 
and  harbour  of  Marseilles,  and  a  fine  expanse  of  the  adja- 
cent coast ;  indeed,  the  building  which  towered  above  me 
looked  more  like  a  military  post  than  a  pilgrim's  haven ; 
but  about  half-way  up  the  ascent,  as  it  rose  steep  and 
difficult,  the  hill  began  to  be  dotted  with  small  shrines  or 
pilgrim  stations,  and  when  we  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
tower  a  picture  of  a  large  and  costly  bell,  lately"  hung  in- 
side, invited  visitors,  at  the  cost  of  a  franc,  to  enter  and 
inspect  the  chapel  of  "  Notre  Dame  de  la  G-arde,"*  at 
the  top  of  the  building,  upon  entering  which,  I,  for  the 
first  time,  saw  the  "Votive  Tablet"  feature  of  the  Eoman 

*  If  the  tower  of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde,  at  Marseilles,  ever  had  a 
military  character,  it  has  long  since  been  merged  in  its  present  use  as 
a  place  of  pilgrimage  and  prodigy.  This  is  the  tower  mentioned  by 
Disraeli,  in  his  notice  of  "  The  Bombastic  Scuderies,"  one  of  whom, 
being  governor  of  this  fort,  used  to  talk  so  grandiloquenUy  of  "his  go- 
vernment," that  two  friends  were  seduced  into  paying  him  a  visit,  the 
result  of  which  they  gave  to  the  world  in  a  witty  poem  containing  these 
lines: 

"  Mais  il  faut  vous  parler  du  Fort, 
Qui  sans  doute  est  une  merveille, 
C'est  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde, 
Gouvemement  commode  et  beau, 
A  qui  suffit,  pour  tout  garde, 
Un  Suisse  avec  sa  halebarde 
Peint  sur  la  porte  du  chateau." 


"  VOTIVE  TABELL-aE." 


275 


system  in  fuU  display — at  least  as  full  as  the  capacity  of 
the  little  chapel  would  allow. 

"  Nous  vous  prenons  pour  notre  Gardienne,"  was  an 
inscription  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  who  had  the  honour 
of  all  the  cures,  miraculous  escapes,  sudden  recoveries,  and 
safe  voyages,  with  representations  of  which  the  walls  of 
this  chapel  were  tapestried  from  top  to  bottom.  The  Sa- 
viour was  acknowledged  on  a  small  side  or  subordinate 
altar ;  but  the  presiding  Divinity  of  the  temple  was  an 
Image  of  the  Virgin,  heavily  gilt,  hideously  ugly,  carved 
out  of  a  black  material  said  to  be  olive  wood,  and  vouched 
to  have  effected  by  its  bodily  presence  more  miracles  than 
our  space  or  credulity  can  find  room  for,  especially  in  a 
chapter  which  must  record  our  visit  to  more  "  Votive  Mu- 
seums" than  one. 

One  compartment  of  the  chapel  presented  a  perfect 
forest  of  crutches,  hung  up  to  commemorate  cures  of  the 
lame ;  with  these  were  wax  models  of  arms  and  legs,  suffi- 
cient to  furnish  an  anatomical  museum.  Elsewhere  were 
seen  numerous  neat  models  of  ships,  offered  either  to 
obtain,  or  record,  the  happy  issue  of  a  sea  voyage.  Among 
these  were  mingled  many  common  donatives  of  the  rude 
sailor,  such  as  "an  ostrich  Qgg,^''  a  "foreign  shell,"  or 
some  other  trifling  memento  of  his  having  been  to  some 
"  far  countrie,"  and  returned  safely.  "  They  were  not 
worth  much,"  as  the  sacristan  said,  turning  from  them 
slightingly  to  point  out  the  treasures  of  votive  art  with 
which  his  walls  were  adorned ;  but  leaving  out  of  sight  for 
a  moment  the  "  zeal  not  according  to  knowledge,"  and 
the  perversion  of  gratitude  from  Him  to  whom  it  was  due, 
which  the  whole  spectacle  exhibited,  I  could  not  but  think 

t2 


276 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


the  rude  offering  of  the  poor  seaman,  who  "  had  done  what 
he  could,"  might  reckon  for  more  in  the  collection  than 
the  costlier  daubs  around  us. 

But  oh  those  daubs!  the  pen  is  powerless  to  describe 
the  absurdities  perpetrated  by  the  pencil,  in  recording  the 
hairbreadth  escapes,  the  deliverances  from  perils  by  sea 
and  land,  by  pestilence  and  by  precipice,  which  the  votaries 
here  all  ascribed  to  "  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde."  In  one 
fine  winter  piece  she  was  seen  seated  on  an  iceberg,  keep- 
ing watch  over  a  Greenland  whaler,  snowed  up  in  all  the 
horrors  of  *' thick-ribbed  ice ;"  in  another,  we  see  the  de- 
votee kneeling  to  her,  apparent  in  impossible  perspective, 
over  the  mantelpiece,  while  the  forked  lightning  flashes 
by  him  to  burn — his  bolster !  Another  picture,  combining 
two  acts  of  the  same  piece,  shows  at  one  side  a  frantic 
horse  dashing  his  rider  into  "  immortal  smash ;"  on  the 
other,  the  victim  lying  in  extremis  on  his  bed,  the  surgeon 
with  splints  and  bandages  standing  helplessly  by,  when  lo ! 
the  Virgin  descends  through  the  corner  of  the  ceiling,  and 
the  "  Yoto"  records  a  case  of  "  cured  in  an  instant !"  There 
were  whole  shoals  of  those  "  enfants  terribles,''  the  plagues 
of  nurses,  the  torments  of  fond  mothers,  who  are  for  ever 
falling  headlong  down  staircases,  or  out  of  open  windows, 
but,  thanks  to  the  Virgin,  never  breaking  their  necks. 
Some  of  those  pictures  had  a  legend  attached,  to  explain 
the  date  and  particulars  of  the  casualty ;  others,  however, 
were  left  to  tell  their  own  "tale  of  terror,"  and  it  is  but 
justice  to  say  that  in  the  ghastly  countenances,  hideous 
gaping  wounds,  and  hopeless  despair  of  the  victims,  and 
of  the  wretched  family  generally  huddled  together  in  a 
comer,  "kneeling,  with  their  legs  sticking  out  behind 


"  VOTIVE  tabellj:." 


277 


them  on  the  floor,  like  hoot-trees  /'*  —  (that  wicked 
Dickens !) — in  fact,  in  making  the  accident  as  desperate, 
and  the  case  to  be  cured  as  bad  as  possible,  the  painter 
generally  did  full  justice  to  the  curative  powers  of  the 
Virgin,  and  gave  the  devotee  as  many  horrors  as  could  well 
be  crowded  on  canvas  for  his  money. 

One  picture  caught  my  attention  particularly.  It  was  a 
Veto  representing  a  section  of  that  awful  conflagration 
and  casualty  which  occurred  on  the  Versailles  Eailroad 
some  twenty  years  since,  when,  in  consequence  of  the 
carriage-doors  being  locked,  so  many  victims  perished. 
There  was  a  stretch  of  railroad,  blazing  carriages,  roasting 
wretches  in  every  variety  of  agony;  and  calmly  looking 
down  from  a  cloud,  above  all,  sat  "Notre  Dame  de  la 
Garde,"  protecting  her  particular  votary,  amid  all  the 
burning  wreck.  Could  it  have  been  that  this  fortunate 
individual  owed  his  deliverance  to  his  guardian  Lady  having 
rushed  off  to  Versailles  in  mistake  for  Marseilles,  upon 
hearing  of  a  conflagration  ?  It  may  seem  wrong  to  write 
in  this  strain  upon  such  a  subject,  but  I  freely  own  I 
cannot  feel  that  the  error  in  these  offerings  should  rank 
among  those  mistakes  in  religion,  which,  while  we  abjure, 
we  may  respect.  Every  picture  added  to  this,  or  like 
collections  of  the  kind,  seems  a  fresh  suggestion  to  others 
to  "  go  and  do  likewise ;"  and  when  we  find  every  mother, 
whose  child  may  have  a  convulsive  fit  and  recover,  forth- 
with proceeding,  not  "to  give  glory  to  God,"  but  to  pay 
her  vows  to  this  "  stock  of  a  tree,"  it  seems  as  impossible 
to  treat  tenderly,  as  to  argue  seriously,  a  case  for  which  the 
"  ridiculum  acrV^  of  the  poet  seems  exactly  calculated. 

It  is  often  said,  in  answer  to  the  charge  of  attributing 


278 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


divine  powers  to  wonder-working  statues  or  pictures,  that 
no  true  believer  rests  his  £aith  in  the  image,  but  carries 
it  up  through  the  image  to  the  being  represented,  and 
through  him  again  to  the  Almighty.  We  need  not  ana- 
lyse this  ingenious  defence,  or  subtle  distinction,  when  we 
find  glaring  facts  to  prove  it  totally  irrelevant,  and  that 
however  the  learned  may  theorise,*  the  multitude  stop 
short  at  the  proximate  object  of  devotion  and  trust.  One 
or  two  examples  of  Votes  out  of  the  many  in  the  chapel 
of  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde  will  establish  this. 

The  first  represented  a  street  in  Marseilles,  through 
which  some  hideous  masques,  in  white,  were  carrying  the 
*'  La  Garde  "  Image  in  procession.  At  an  open  window 
lay  a  figure  on  a  couch,  and  underneath  ran  the  following 
legend : 

"  Clarisse  Chalons,  ag^e  de  vingt-un  ans, 

malade  depuis  trois  ans, 

entiferement  paralys^e  du  cot^  droit, 

a  et(?  guerie  subitement 

lors  du  passage  de  la  statue 

de  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde 

dans  la  rue  Jean,  25  Mai,  1845." 

Upon  which  miracle  I  will  only  observe,  that  supposing 
the  ailment  of  Clarisse  Chalons  to  have  been  an  affection 
such  as  highly  sensitive  temperaments  are  subject  to,  if  the 
characters  in  the  actual  procession  were  half  as  hideous 

*  On  this  point  their  learned  men  theorise  very  differently  in  different 
degrees  of  latitude.  The  "  Catholic  Christian  instructed,"  professing  to 
answer  "  Conyers  Middleton"  in  England,  about  one  hundred  years  since, 
says,  "  They  do  not  ascribe  their  miracles  to  any  power  in  the  image 
itself;"  while  Durandtis,  writing  in  the  mid-day  blaze  of  unclouded 
Popery,  boldly  affirms,  "  Extra  omnem  controversiam  est  sanctorum 
imagines  designare  miracula,  ut  et  debdlibas  valetudo  bona  per  eos  con- 
cilietur." — Durand.  De  Ritib.  lib.  i.  c.  5. 


<c 


voTiV-s  tabellj:. 


1) 


279 


and  unearthly  as  the  pictorial  representation,  a  nervous 
person,  mistaking  constitutional  debility  for  paralysis, 
might  be  roused  by  mere  fright  into  an  exertion  to  escape 
from  such  fiendish-looking  neighbours,  without  needing  to 
be  endowed  with  any  miraculous  energy. 

Another  tablet  presented  a  well-appointed  diligence  at 
a  stand-still  on  the  highway,  the  passengers  dismounted 
and  artistically  grouped  here  and  there,  while  the  con- 
ducteur  and  another  supported  at  the  road-side  a  woman, 
paLuted,  with  a  free  brush,  as  in  hltte  cholera,  over  whose 
head  "  Notre  Dame  de  la  Garde  "  (no  mistaking  the  like- 
ness) hovered  in  the  background,  and  above  all  was  in- 
scribed : 

"  '  Ex  VoTo,'  pour  la  guerison  miraculeuse 

du  cholera  sur  la  route  de  Toulon 

En  Boussett,  7  Novembre,  1849.— Rose  Aumeron." 

Surely  there  is  no  want  of  charity  in  affirming  that,  in 
the  numberless  cases  of  which  these  are  exemplars,  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Voto-giver  centred  in  the  individualised 
Lady  of  the  Chapel  of  La  Garde. 

In  perfect  keepiog  with  the  business  done  in  this  chapel 
was  a  "  comptoir,''^  or  side-desk,  from  which  the  "  lady  in 
waiting,"  a  brisk  and  voluble  sextoness,  glided  to  explain 
to  us  the  various  miracolos  of  her  show-room.  Upon  a 
hint  that  we  could  read  for  ourselves,  she  gladly  left  us,  to 
carry  on  a  brisk  trade  in  the  rosaries,  pictures  of  the 
wonder-working  image,  and  votive  candles  with  which  her 
stand  was  well-stocked,  and  for  which,  while  we  were  in 
the  chapel,  I  saw  several  hard  bargains  driven  "  au  j^rix 
jmie''  It  was  a  baptised  repetition  of  the  "  Money- 
chaugers'  table,  and  the  seat  of  them  that  sold  doves," 


280 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GBAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


waiting  for  the  rebuking  voice  whicli  shall   finally  say, 
"  Take  these  things  hence  !'* 

I  had  forgotten  the  "  Votive  Tablets  "  of  Marseilles — 
they  had  been  blotted  from  memory  by  more  interesting 
objects  for  some  time  afterwards — until  one  day  pacing  the 
church  of  the  "  Ara  Coeli,"  atKome,  as  I  passed  one  of  the 
small  side-chapels,  my  eye  was  caught  by  a  spick-and-span 
new  "  Voto,"  so  specially  absurd,  that  there  was  no  passing 
it  without  a  pause.  The  whole  field  of  the  picture  was  oc- 
cupied by  a  hand  "  couped  "  at  the  wrist,  and  severed  by  a 
huge  gash  nearly  horizontally  across  the  palm.  There  was 
no  inscription  of  any  kind :  the  wounded  limb  was  left  to 
tell  its  own  tale  of  escaped  locked-jaw,  and  to  glorify  "  St. 
Anthony  of  Padua. ^^  Having  come  to  a  stand-still  at  this 
picture,  I  soon  perceived  the  little  chapel  specially  dedi- 
cated to  this  saint  to  be  hung  thick  with  Votes,  and  while 
I  was  examining  them,  a  worshipper  came  who  knelt  at  the 
rail  which  fenced  in  the  chapel  from  the  nave,  and  taking 
hold  of  a  tablet  which  hung  there,  repeated  something  very 
devoutly,  and  then  went  his  way.  The  whole  did  not 
occupy  two  minutes,  and  on  looking  over  the  formula  thus 
quickly  despatched,  I  found  the  following  laudation  of  the 
saint,  which  I  venture  to  render  in  suitable  doggerel ; 

"  Si  quaeris  miracula, 
Mors,  error,  calamitas, 
Daemon,  lepra,  fugiunt, 

^gri  surgunt  sani, 
Cedunt  mare,  yincula, 
Membra^*  resque  perditas, 
Petunt  et  accipiunt 

Juvenes  et  cani. 

•  In  consequence  of  an  ambiguity  in  the  construction,  I  felt  some 
doubt  whether  this  doggerel  intended  to  attribute  to  St.  Anthony  the 
"  replacing  of  lost  limbs  /"    However,  at  Padua,  I  found  a  "  parallel 


It 


VOTIV-E  TABELLJB. 


)i 


281 


Pereunt  pericula, 
Cessit  et  necessitas, 
Karrant  hi  qui  sentiunt, 
Dicant  Paduani." 

If  you  wonders  wish  to  see, 
Error,  death,  calamity, 
Demons  chased, — cured  leprosy, 

Sick  men  rising  whole  men, 
Seas  or  chains  their  thralls  releasing, 
Limbs  or  money  lost  replacing, 
This  saint's  hands  pray  put  your  case  in, 

All  you  young  or  old  men. 
Dangers  made  to  disappear, 
Want  replaced  by  better  cheer, 
Those  who've  proved  can  make  it  clear, 
The  Paduans  have  told  men. 

From  this  modest  yielding  of  the  pas  to  Padua,  as  the 
chief  scene  and  witness  of  St.  Anthony's  miracles,  I  was 
seized  with  a  lively  desire  to  see  his  church  in  that  city, 
and  to  look  out  for  myself  the  Vote,  noted  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  since  by  Bishop  Burnet,  in  which  St.  Anthony 
was  invoked  as  hearing  those  "  quos  non  audit  ipse  Deus .'" 
In  due  course  we  came  to  Padua ;  but  in  the  wilderness  of 
Votes,  which  garnished  the  saint's  chapel  from  floor  to 
roof,  I  missed  the  laudation  which  attracted  Bishop  Bur- 
net's notice ;  whether  it  was  that  in  its  dingy  preservation 
it  had  been  shoved  upwards  to  the  attic  region,  or  that  in 

l)assage,"  which  places  the  construction  beyond  question.  In  the  same 
"  Voto"  from  which  I  have  selected  the  motto  of  this  chapter,  St.  An- 
thony is  addressed  as 

"  Membrorum  Restitutori 
Vinculorum  Confractori, 
Rerum  perditarum  Inventori  stupendo." 

The  only  other  parallel  for  this  power  that  I  find,  is  m  a  burlesque  of  the 
Puffing  System,  which  enumerates  among  the  wonders  of  "  Holloway's 
Ointment" !  that  it  completely  cured  the  "  fractured  wooden  leg  of  a 
drunken  Greenwich  pensioner." ! !  I 


282 


GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


mere  shame  at  the  blasphemy  it  had  been  removed,  I  cannot 
pretend  to  decide,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  could  not  see  it ; 
but  I  saw  other  records  of  blind  devotion,  very  curious,  I 
would  I  could  say,  rare.  'Not  the  coarsest  daubs  ever  sold 
at  a  country  fair,  not  the  rudest  woodcut  that  ever  graced 
the  "  Biblia  pauperum,"  could  compare  with  some  of  the 
memorials  with  which  St.  Anthony  was  honoured  by  his 
adoring  disciples.     Of  these  take  a  specimen : 

Scene,  the  banks  of  a  river,  into  which  a  huge  market- 
cart  had  been  so  ingeniously  overturned,  that  it  was  only 
by  the  rules  of  comparative  anatomy,  which  deduced  a 
drowning  horse  from  a  visible  hoof  above  the  surface,  you 
could  know  it  had  been  drawn  by  a  quadruped ;  at  the 
near  side  to  the  beholder  emerged  three  staring  heads,  with 
imploring  eyes  and  outstretched  hands,  looking  awai/  from 
St.  Anthony  with  all  their  might,  while  the  saint  sat 
serenely  on  the  bank  behind,  a  halo  round  his  head,  and  his 
hand  lifted,  not  seemingly  to  help  the  struggling  men,  but 
to  admonish  them  in  the  Pagan  fashion  of  ^sop's  Jupiter, 
"  not  to  lie  there  bawling  like  lazy  fellows,  but  to  help 
themselves  and  their  drowning  horse."  The  wholesome 
advice,  or  timely  aid,  is  thus  acknowledged : 

"  Per  Grazia  ricevuta 

Rimasti  incolumi 

Massufe  Lugi 

Passentin  Giovanni 

Valentini  Gio.  Maria. 

El  iii  di  Decembre,  1741." 

Near  to  this  hung  a  vivid  representation  of  a  tremendous 
"  blow  up,*'  in  which  half  a  dozen  figures  were  projected 
into  the  air,  in  postures  utterly  inconsistent  with  life  or 
safety,  and  among  missiles  which  must  have  ground  them 


« 


VOTIVJE  TABELllE. 


i> 


283 


to  powder  as  they  descended  to  terra  firma  again.    The 
result,  however,  thanks  to  St.  Anthony,  is  given  as  follows : 

"  Nel  giomo  xvii  di  Giugnio  MDCCLXXVin, 

Giovanni  Zeno  e  compagni  nella  terra 

di  Novol,  furono  abbruciati  della  polvere 

da  MortarifFe,  chi  accidentellemente  prese  fuoco, 

e  per  intercessione  di  San  Antonio  di  Padua, 

invocato  in  qiielpunto,  remanesso  in  vita, 

6  requisitarono  la  Salute." 

Time  and  space  would  fail  to  show  the  variety  of  these 
Votes,  aU  virtually  investing  St.  Anthony  with  the  two 
awful  attributes  of  Omnipresence  and  Omnipotence; 
wherever  we  went  through  Italy  we  saw  vestiges  of  the 
same  votive  spirit  ever  addressing  its  thanks  to  some  inter- 
mediate protector.  At  Brescia,  where  a  new  cathedral  is 
curiously  dovetailed  into  an  old  one,  in  a  dark  passage 
connecting  the  two  buildings  hung  a  "Vote,"  commemo- 
rating some  old  gentleman's  escape  from  breaking  neck  or 
limb  by  slipping  on  the  damp  flags,  and  ascribing  his 
escape  to  some  illustrious  obscure  called  "  St.  Libonim,^^ 
whom  he  invoked  in  a  filial  spirit  of  dependence  in  the  very 
moment  of  danger  (so  saith  the  legend)  in  the  following 
couplet : 

"  Salva,  0  Liboni,  in  si  fatal  periglio ; 
II  consorti  a  me  salve,  il  padre  al'  figlio." 

Libonius,  save,  in  danger  dire; 
To  save  a  son,  befits  a  sire. 

The  last  variety  of  these  Votes  which  I  shall  notice,  are 
a  series  hung  in  the  noble  Duomo,  at  Milan,  where  the 
solemn  majesty  of  the  interior  is,  I  will  not  say  destroyed, 
but  certainly  disfigured,  by  a  line  of  coarse  beams  running 
along  the  splendid  nave  arches  as  supports  for  rows  of 


284 


i» 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUB    -ISTS. 


daubs  equally  out  of  character  and  place,  and  recording, 
with  sign-post  emphasis,  a  series  of  miracles  in  honour  of 
the  Holy  Sacrament ;  the  tenor  of  which  may  be  judged  by 
the  following  explanatory  inscriptions  copied  from  two  of 
the  pictures : 

"  S.  Stanislaus  Kotska, 
in  un  Tempio  di  Luterani, 
da  lui  supposti  di  Cattolici, 
Si  communicando  un  Angelo." 

St.  Stanislaus  Kotska, 

in  a  Lutheran  Church, 

mistaken  by  him  for  a 

Catholic  Church,  receives 

the  Communion  from  an  Angel  I 

How  the  saint  could  have  fallen  into  the  error — or  why, 
when  he  discovered  his  mistake,  he  could  not  have  walked 
out  again — this  veracious  legend  does  not  inform  iis.  Take 
another — 

"  Si  fabrica  della  api 

un  globo  di  cera 

al  Eucharistico 

Sagramento  caduto 

nel  fango," 

A  swarm  of  bees 

make  a  globe  of  wax 

for  the  use  of  the 

Holy  Sacrament 
fallen  into  the  mud. 

The  artist  has  done  his  best  to  illustrate  this  miracle — 
but  the  miQuteness  of  the  subject,  and  the  distance  from 
which  the  picture  must  be  looked  at,  has  compelled  him 
to  make  his  bees  as  big  as  spring  chickens,  and  thus  by 
enlarging,  to  diminish  some  of  the  marvel  of  this  veritable 
transaction — as  it  is  recorded  in  the  works  of  "  Thomas 
Cantipratanus,"  who  caps  the  legend  of  the  picture  by 


"  voTivjE  tabellj:. 


»> 


285 


telling  us  (lib.  ii.  "De  Miraculis  sui  Temporis,"  c.  xl. 
p.  398)  how  "  these  bees  lodged  the  Holy  Sacrament  in 
their  hive  in  a  ^  pix  of  tie  purest  wax' — ^how  the  owner  of 
the  hive  saw  night  after  night  the  whole  air  brightened 
and  luminous  over  them — and  how,  when  he  went  to  look 
for  honey,  he  discovered  that  the  bees,  forswearing  the 
sweets  of  life,  had  become  ascetics ;  that  they  had  left  off 
working,  and  after  monastic  fashion  taken  to  '  droning,'  or 
singing,  which  they  ceased  not  to  do  night  and  day,  con- 
trary to  bee  habits  in  general."  ! ! ! 

It  is  impossible  to  speak  seriously  of  such  puerilities  as 
these,  when  we  find  them  defacing  the  finest  monuments, 
and  disturbing  the  most  solemn  influences  of  the  noble 
architectural  temples  into  which  they  are  intruded.  With 
some  jumbling  of  styles,  and  defects  in  the  details,  amply, 
however,  mastered  in  the  general  effect,  the  airy  and 
graceful  exterior  of  the  Duomo  of  Milan  sends  you  into 
its  grand  and  solemn  interior  quite  unprepared  for  the 
contrast ;  but  you  are  very  speedily  sobered  to  a  feeling 
suited  to  the  place  and  "its  dim  religious  light,"  when  all 
is  again  dissolved  into  impatient  ridicule  of  the  "  TahellcB,'' 
crossmg  the  Ime  of  vision  as  you  look  up  the  noble  nave, 
and  soliciting  your  attention  to  such  wonders  as  I  have 
noticed,  of  which  the  crowning  one  is  a  picture  of  the 
affair  already  noticed  in  the  account  of  his  church  at  Padua, 
where  St.  Anthony  exposes  the  Host  to  the  venerating 
mule !  to  the  conviction  and  confusion  of  a  heretic. 

Such  is  the  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  down 
which  one  is  for  ever  in  danger  of  slipping  in  Italy— a 
danger  from  which  not  even  St.  Libonius  can  preserve  the 
"  Northern  intellect." 


286 


GLEANH^GS  AETEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


CHAPTEE  XYI. 

THE     "  OPENING     OF    THE     PASS" 
TO  CHIAVENNA. 

"  Well,  girls,"  I  said  to  my  daughters,  as  we  loitered 
over  the  breakfast-table  at  Milan,  with  the  Alpine  routes 
of  return  spread  upon  the  map  before  us,  "  now,  which 
road  shall  we  take  ?" 

A  propos  of  breakfast,  let  no  unsuspecting  Englishman 
ever  allow  himself  to  be  deluded  by  the  offer  of  the  Anglais 
into  venturing  on,  or  paying  for,  the  detestable  compound 
produced  to  him  under  that  name  in  the  Austrian  domi- 
nions :  it  is  not  poisonous,  simply  because  it  is  vapid !  and 
then  the  air  with  which  the  attendant  parades  it,  as  though 
the  "  furthest  Orient"  had  been  ransacked  to  provide  it  for 
your  service.  After  close  and  curious  inspection,  I  pro- 
nounce the  Tudesche  {Austrian  tea)  to  be  a  composition 
of  roasted  bean-pods  and  acacia  flowers,  in  equal  propor- 
tions. I  may  not  be  quite  accurate  as  to  component  parts, 
but  of  one  thing  I  am  certain,  that  tea,  in  the  Anglo- 
Chinese  sense  of  the  word,  it  is  not. 

"Well,  girls,  what  route  ?"— "  The  world  was  all  before 
us,  which  to  choose  ?"     It  was  a  nice  question.     We  had 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.        287 

not  entered  Italy  by  any  of  the  Alpine,  passes.  When  we 
left  home  in  early  spring,  in  rather  invalid  condition,  the 
facility  of  passing,  by  a  four-day  run,  from  snow  and  the 
hise  wind  at  Marseilles  to  sun  and  strawberries  at  [N'aples, 
with  a  stroll  through  Genoa's  streets  of  palaces,  and  a 
lounge  in  the  leaning  tower  at  Pisa  by  the  way,  had  in- 
duced us  to  invade  Italy  by  "long  sea ;"  whereas  restored 
health  enabled  us  to  return  leisurely  northward,  hunting 
the  summer  before  us  through  the  whole  length  of  the 
Peninsula — hence  our  embarras  de  richesses  as  to  how  to 
pass  the  Alpine  barrier.  The  glutton  of  old  mourned  that 
he  could  eat  but  one  dinner  in  the  day — we  could  travel 
by  but  one  route,  and  were  not  likely  ever  to  traverse 
another  during  our  lives :  which,  then,  should  it  be  ? 

Eirst  there  was  the  Simplon,  with  its  visions  of  Napo- 
leon {VOncle,  pas  le  Neveu*  de  onon  Oncle),  and  all  its 
engineering  wonders  ;  then  there  was  the  Great  St.  Ber- 
nard, the  difficulties  of  which,  it  was  said,  had  generated  the 
idea  of  the  Simplon  route  in  its  great  designer's  mind,  and 
one  of  my  silly  girls  proposed  to  select  that,  in  compliment 

*  It  may  be  fit  here  to  observe  that  this  passage  was  written  before 
the  present  Emperor  of  the  French  had  showed  himself  to  be  "  Master  of 
the  Position"  which  he  now  so  ably  maintains,  and  while,  in  the  quaint 
phrase  of  an  old  writer,  "  he  added  to  his  stature  by  taking  stand  upon 
his  uncle's  grave."  In  1851  all  things  in  France  seemed  approaching  to 
an  entanglement  of  which  no  human  foresight  could  predict  the  issue. 
ZjOuis  Napoleon  cut  the  knot  with  his  single  and  decisive  "  coup  d^etat" 
and  has  ever  since  been  proving  himself  fully  equal  to  the  trying  and 
difficult  mission  to  which,  when  long  since  he  declared  himself  appointed, 
he  was  considered  a  raving  enthusiast.  In  the  present  complication  of 
European  politics,  who  can  fully  estimate  the  importance  of  having  in 
the  chief  place  of  power  in  France  a  ruler  so  loyally  adhering  to  the  cause 
of  order,  civilisation,  and  good  faith  as  Napoleon  the  Third  ? 


iiH 


J  ■! 


288 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  T0FR"-ISTS. 


to  our  Great  St.  Bernard  dog,  "  Douro/*  at  home ;  tlien 
there  lay  the  coast  road,  with  its  quiet  beauties  (a  Nice 
drive,  as  a  punster  commended  it  in  our  hearing) ;  but  we 
wanted  no  "  nice  drives"  or  quiet  beauties ;  we  wanted  to 
enjoy  Alpine  scenes  and  horrors,  after  Lady  Townley's 
fashion,  "  in  moderation" — a  little  episode  of  wolves,  with- 
out being  actually  eaten — not  exactly  avalanches,  but  a 
good  hearty  snowing  up,  which  might  realise  December  in 
June,  and  contradict  the  carol  which  sings  that  "  Christ- 
mas comes  but  once  a  year."  We  wanted  to  see  the 
famous  Pfaffers  Baths — the  infant  Ehine  and  its  glacier 
— in  short,  we  wanted  an  *  adventure !"  and  so,  as  our 
best  chance  for  it,  we  chose  the  pass  of  "  the  Spliighen." 

"Not  open,  yet,  Signer,"  said  mine  host,  when  I  de- 
scended to  take  council  with  him  concerning  a  conveyance ; 
"it  has  rained  lately.     The  Spliighen  will  not  be  open 

now ;  but  in  a  few  days " 

It  must  be  noted  that  the  Italians,  who,  I  think,  pos- 
sess a  monopoly  of  supplying  the  British  dominions  with 
weather  wisdom  (in  fact,  I  never  yet  met  an  itinerant 
vendor  of  telescopes  and  barometers  who  was  not  an 
Italian),  never  trouble  themselves  with  any  such  artificial 
indices  of  the  weather ;  they  have  a  very  simple  natural 
rule  which  helps  them  to  all  they  require  to  know  of 
meteorology,  and  it  is  this  : — ^When  it  rains  on  the  plains 
of  Lombardy,  it  is  snowing  or  icifying  in  the  overhanging 
Alpine  regions ;  and  therefore  when,  at  the  critical  period 
of  the  passes  becoming  pervious  to  travellers,  a  fall  of  rain 
happens,  it  does  more  than  the  hottest  sun  in  ripening  the 
harvest  of  sub-Alpine  Hotel-keepers  at  either  side  of 
the  chain.    Now  we  had  had  furious  down-pouring  rain 


THE  "opening  of  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.       289 

for  a  day  or  two  previous,  and  hence  mine  host  at  eighty 
or  a  hundred  miles  distance  from  the  Spliighen  Pass,  was 
able  to  pronounce  oracularly,  "  Not  open  yet,  Signer ;" 
and  he  was  quite  right,  as  we  found  in  the  sequel. 

I  looked  grave  at  this  intimation,  and  forthwith  the  dis- 
interested host  proceeded  to  enumerate  the  yet  unseen 
wonders  of  Milan. 

"  The  Signer  had  not  seen  the  Scala,  nor  the  Sunday 
Cassino?" 
"  No ;  I  never  went  to  either." 
"  Well,  then,  the  Amphiteatro  ?" 
"  No ;  I  did  not  care  for  a  bad  Astley's." 
In  fact,  as  we  had  already  seen  "the  Duomo,"  "  Leo- 
nardo's world-famed  fresco,"  the  library  with  Lucretia 
Borghia's  letters,  Petrarch's  own  Virgil,  noted  in  his  own 
exquisite  caligraphy — poets  were  clerks  in  his  day — and 
some  other  specialities,  I  did  not  think  that  another  week 
out  of  our  limited  time  spent  in  Milan  would  "  quit  cost." 
What  our  host  thought,  is  quite  another  thing. 

Up-stairs  again  to  take  council  with  the  girls — and 
Murray.  Matchless  Murray !  that  true  traveller's  friend 
in  need — never  in  one's  way,  yet  never  out  of  it,  and 
always  ready  to  put  you  in  your  way  when  out  of  it — thus 
he  goes  with  you  round  the  world,  silent  and  unobtrusive, 
and  yet  aufait  to  everything.  I  look  to  see  shortly  his 
"  Handbook  for  the  Diggings." 

Murray  soon  solved  our  difficulty.  We  found  quite 
within  our  reach  an  excursion  which  would  just  occupy 
the  time  which  it  was  supposed  would  be  necessary  to 
thaw  the  icy  heart  of  our  Alpine  gaoler.  A  run  through 
the  lakes  might  be  accomplished  in  three  or  four  days  at 

u 


290 


»» 


GLEANHTGS  AFTEE  "  GEAITD  TOUE    -ISTS. 


the  utmost,  and  so  taking  leave  of  mine  host,  taking  up  our 
carriages,  and  taking  the  steamer  at  Sesto-CalendsB,  where 
the  limpid  Ticino  leaves  its  parent  lake,  we  found  ourselves, 
without  much  fatigue,  the  next  evening  "  taking  ease  in 
our  inn"  at  Bavenno,  on  the  LagoMagiore,  having  hefore 
our  windows  the  Isola  Bella  floating  like  a  fairy  vision, 
with  all  its  beauties  for  a  honne  bouche,  previous  to  crossing 
the  lake  on  the  morrow  for  Lugano. 

I  spare  my  readers  all  or  any  of  those  common-places  of 
travel,  which  they  may  learn  so  far  better  from  professional 
guide-books,  such  as,  the  magnificent  view  to  be  had 
through  St.  Carlo  Borromeo*s  "  rayless  sockets,"  while 
you  rest  yourself  in  his  nose,  after  the  fatigue  of  climbing 
his  colossal  statue  near  Aurona.  This,  by  the  way,  being 
precisely  the  feat  to  which  to  apply  poor  Sheridan's  im- 
moral advice  to  his  son ; 

"  Tom,  why  did  you  go  down  that  nasty  coal-pit?" 

"  Just  that  I  might  have  it  to  say  that  I  had  done  so, 
father,"  replied  Tom. 

"  You  fool,  could  not  you  say  you  had  done  so,  without 
taking  the  trouble  ?"  retorted  his  father. 

How  many  adventures  do  men  go  through  merely  for 
Tom  Sheridan's  reason,  "that  they  may  have  it  to  say." 

The  rarities  and  beauties  of  the  Borromean  Isles,  some- 
what formal  and  fantastic,  but  still  not  incongruous  to 
that  spot,  rising  like  an  enchanted  castle  from  the  waters, 
have  been  so  often  chronicled  that  it  would  be  impertinent 
to  introduce  them  here,  a  few  "  mems."  of  my  own  are  all 
I  shall  inflict  upon  the  patience  of  my  readers. 

It  looks  strange,  among  the  proudest  memorials  of  the 
proud  house  of  Borromeo,  its  carved  filigrees  of  stone,  its 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA. 


291 


florid  ironwork  balustrades,  its  stately  gates  of  scroll- 
work, to  see  here  and  there  the  motto  (of  the  family,  I 
presume)  "  |l^umilita0,"  interwoven  in  the  tracery.  No 
doubt  the  owners  may  carry  an  humble  spirit  under  all 
the  panoply  of  pride  and  pretension  amidst  which  they 
dwell,  still  the  word  contrasted  oddly  with  the  aristocratic 
pomps  and  vanities  of  the  lordly  palace,  terraced  gardens, 
and  all  thereunto  belonging.  But  the  same  word  showed 
in  even  stronger  contrast  still  with  the  massive  silver 
lining,  the  jewelled  head-gear,  and  golden  stufis  which 
adorned  the  resting-place  of  that  poor  "  grinning  atomy," 
the  body  of  Saint  Charles  Borromeo  himself,  as  he  lies  in 
the  stately  Duomo  at  Milan. 

Napoleon  lodged  (who  shall  say  slept?)  in  the  Isola 
Bella  the  night  before  the  battle  of  Marengo.  They  show 
you  a  tree  upon  which,  with  the  point  of  his  sword,  he 
carved  his  initials  and  engrossing  idea,  "battaglia,"  but 
they  are  grown  beyond  all  deciphering  now ;  N.  B.  stands 
neither  for  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  or  nofa  hene,  or  any- 
thing else  at  present,  save  a  rough  excrescence  in  the 
bark,  which  has  quietly  grown  over  and  obliterated,  the 
great  man's  handiwork — a  small  proof  added  to  the 
greater  ones  around  us,  that  even  the  sword  of  the  con- 
queror is  no  match  for  the  scythe  of  time. 

I  sauntered,  as  my  wont  is,  into  the  little  church  of 
Bavenno,  and  was  amused  by  one  of  those  examples  of 
slip-slop  copying  of  inscriptions  which  so  often  mystify 
antiquaries  and  scholars.  The  little  church  was  a  "  res- 
toration" of  a  much  more  ancient  building,  and  over 
the  door  was  an  inscription,  recording  its  erection  and 
founder,  which  I  stopped  to  read,  with  the  more  curiosity 

u2 


292 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS  '  TO  CHIAVENNA.       293 


when  I  perceived,  staring  me  in  the  face,  the  names  of 
two  rather  incongruous  divinities — Darius  and  Diana! 
Yes,  I  was  right ;  there  it  stood,  an  explicit  declaration 
that  the  temple  owed  its  origin  to  the  care  "Darii  et 
Dianse!"  What  could  it  mean?  I  entered  the  church, 
and  found  the  solution  of  the  mystery  in  the  fact  that 
some  ignorant  copyist  had  mistaken  in  transcribing  a 
much  more  ancient  inscription,  which  attributed  the  erec- 
tion to  some  one  rejoicing  in  the  patronymic  "  Darini- 
dianus,"  whatever  that  word  may  mean.  Out  of  this  the 
blunderer  (could  it  have  been  Signor  II  Padre  ?)  manufac- 
tured King  Darius  and  Queen  Diana,  and  attributed  the 
pious  work  to  them.  Many  a  controversy  on  a  disputed 
text  has  arisen  from  a  similar  blunder. 

Doctor  James  Johnson,  in  his  pleasant  Italian  tour, 
speaks  of  a  notable  thunderstorm  which  he  encountered 
at  Bavenno  twenty  years  ago.  We  came  in  for  its 
*'  pendant,"  with  this  agreeable  difference,  that  we  were 
housed  before  the  storm,  he  after  it.  We  had  retired  to 
rest,  after  seeing 

"  The  sun  with  golden  set 
Give  promise  of  a  goodly  day  to-morrow." 

At  about  eleven  I  was  awakened  by  a  refreshing  sense 
of  coolness  in  the  air,  accompanied  by  a  noise,  for  which  I 
could  not  at  first  account ;  there  was  no  rushiug  cataract 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  and  yet  rushing  water 
"was  in  mine  ears,"  coming  down  "with  a  will,"  as 
seamen  have  it.  I  opened  the  window,  and  was  presently 
aware  that  the  noise  I  heard  was  that  of  "  the  big  rain 
come  dancing  to  the  earth,"  after  most  approved  tornado 


fashion,  while  from  peak  to  peak  to  Alpward  "  the  live 
thunder  kept  leaping,"  with  incessant  and  awful  activity; 
it  was  magnificent  beyond  describing,  it  was  "Byronic !" 
"  of  the  first  impression."  I  would  have  come  hither,  if 
for  no  other  gain  but  to  be  able  hereafter  to  read  Byron's 
glorious  description  of  an  Alpine  thunderstorm,  with  such 
an  illustration  impressed  on  my  memory. 

The  morning  came,  "  weeping  piteously  a  gentle  rain." 
No  one  who  had  slept  soundly  could  have  imagined  how 
the  elements  had  been  "  keeping  it  up"  the  night  before. 
It  was,  in  all  senses,  a  "soft  morning;"  and  we  sat — our 
bills  paid,  and  ready  to  depart — looking  hopelessly  at  the 
misty  landscape.  The  boat  we  had  engaged  the  night 
before  to  carry  us  to  Luino  lay  under  our  windows  ;  but 
we  agreed  that  to  commence  a  voyage  in  an  open  boat  in 
such  weather  would  be  madness,  and  so  we  sat  gazing  dis- 
consolately abroad. 

At  length  one  of  our  boatmen  approached,  and  civilly 
said,  "  Signor,  you  engaged  us  last  night — ecco  !  here  we 


are. 


i» 


"  But,  friend,  the  rain  1"  said  I. 

"  Niente,  niente,^^  said  the  man;  "it  is  nothing,  Signor 
— ^we  cannot  lose  our  day.  Still,  if  the  Signor  wishes  to 
stay,  he  will  make  us  a  '  huono  mano*  worth  while." 

"  I  wish  to  go  very  much  indeed,"  said  I,  "  but  we 
should  be  drenched  before  half  across  the  lake  in  such  a 
rain  as  this." 

"  Non,  Signor ;  we  shall  have  up  our  *  casa  hiancd!  pre- 
sently." 

I  did  not  understand  this,  but  seeing  the  man  confident 
and  smiling,  not  at  all  like  a  man  preparing  himself  to 


p 
I 

H 


294 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


encounter  a  down-pour  of  rain,  I  gave  the  word — "  an- 

In  a  few  minutes  I  saw  a  very  simple  yet  effectual 
contrivance,  by  which  we,  our  luggage,  boatmen  and  all, 
crossed  Lago  Magiore  in  soaking  rain  without  suffering 
the  slightest  inconvenience.  It  is  a  pity  this  contrivance 
could  not  be  with  safety  adapted  to  our  hyperborean 
climate :  if  it  could,  we  should  not  have  so  many  recorded 
execrations  of  tourists  against  the  "Killamey  shower,"  or 
the  "  Fatter  dale  rain-pour*'  at  TJlswater. 

Every  boat  is  furnished  with  large  hoops,  which  fasten 
to  the  sides,  after  the  fashion  of  a  gipsy  caravan ;  over 
these  the  canvas  "  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay" — a  sail 
or  a  shelter,  as  required,  is  spread,  and  no  rain  can 
possibly  penetrate ;  should  the  shower  become  specially 
heavy — as,  with  parting  spite,  it  did  in  our  case— a  second 
sail  is  added,  and  effectually  excludes  the  worst  weather. 
I  doubt  if  I  ever  saw  steadier,  soaking  rain  than  we  had 
while  crossing  the  Lago,  and  yet  the  girls  could  touch 
their  sketch-books,  the  boatmen  pushed  (they  don't  pull) 
their  oars,  while  I  anglicised  an  ode  from  a  pocket  Horace, 
each  and  all  perfectly  without  inconvenience  from  the  piti- 
less, pelting  rain. 

Not  for  their  own  merit,  yet  as  a  psychological  curiosity, 
I  offer  my  readers  the  conceptions  which  the  bedraggled 
Muse  afforded  in  answer  to  my  invocation  on  that  occa- 
sion— turning  as  my  thoughts  did,  on  the  enduring  repu- 
tation which  Horace  has  obtained,  so  that,  in  spite  of  all 
that  .is  objectionable  in  morals  or  principle,  no  scholar 
would  willingly  be  without  a  pocket  Horace  when  treading 
what  the  poet  has  made  classic  ground  at  every  step : 


THE  "  OPENING  OE  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.   295 

"  Poscimus  siquid  vacui,"  &c — Hor.  Ode,  lib.  L  32. 

Sweet  poesy,  whose  witching  power 
Beguiles  so  oft  my  leisure  hour, 
Embalming  art  is  thine ;  then  give 
Thoughts  which  beyond  the  hour  may  live ; 
Teach  me  that  strain  Alcseus  sung 
When  Lesbian  harp  erewhile  he  strung ; 
Who,  fierce  in  fight — the  conflict  o'er, 
His  war-barque  idly  drawn  to  shore — 
Loved  to  sing  wine's  soul-cheering  joy, 
And  Venus  with  her  urchin  boy. 
Come,  Poesy ! — the  day-god's  crown — 
Thou  who  canst  care  in  Leth^  drown, 
Meet  guest  for  Jove's  own  festive  hall — 
Answer  a  votary  when  I  caU. 

"  Exegi  monumentum  aere,"  &c. — Lib.  iii.  Ode  xxx. 

Brass  may  corrode  on  storied  grave, 
Ages  roll  on,  the  wild  winds  wave, 
The  pyramids  lie  tombed  in  sand, 
But  still  the  poet's  trophies  stand — 
Death  to  destroy  him  vainly  strives, 
Wedded  to  verse  his  mind  survives. 
And  laurel  crowns  his  honoured  bust 
When  Rome's  proud  Capitol  is  dust — 
Where  Aufidus  from  rapid  springs 
To  Daunian  plains  scant  verdure  brings, 
There,  humbly  bom,  still  thy  name 
Is  widely  heralded  by  fame  : 
Who  first  taught  Latian  measures  slow 
In  swift  iEolic  verse  to  flow. 
Thine  be  the  praise  his  Muse,  and  thine 
The  Delphic  wreath  for  him  to  twine. 


I ' 


Midway  across  the  noble  expanse  of  waters,  it  seemed 
to  us  that  the  rain  had  done  its  worst ;  the  mists,  instead 
of  broodiQg  on  the  face  of  the  lake,  began  to  float  up- 
wards, exposing  the  sides  and  ravines  of  the  Alps,  and  at 
intervals  allowing  peaks  and  precipices  to  come  out  into 
most  picturesque  relief.    I  don't  pretend  to  speak  from 


296 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UB"-ISTS. 


any  experience  in  these  matters,  but  the  shifting,  tanta- 
lising landscape  as  we  neared  Luino  realised  to  me 
descriptions  I  have  read  of  the  coquettish  play  which  the 
Spanish  lady  is  said  to  make  with  her  mantilla,  when, 
"half  sly,  half  shy,'*  she  now  exposes  one  feature,  now 
another,  and  then  hides  it  again,  attracting  curiosity  and 
admiration,  more,  perliaps,  than  if  she  brought  the  full 
play  of  her  charms  to  bear  on  the  beholder  ;  or,  to  use  a 
more  national  illustration,  I  would  say  that  I  doubt  much 
if  we  could  have  seen  the  grand  scenery  of  Upper  Lago 
Magiore  to  greater  advantage  in  broad,  glarish  sunshine, 
than  we  did  in  that  "freshness  of  a  weeping  morning,"  of 
which  our  own  island  poet  has  sung — 

"  Its  smiles  and  its  tears  are  worth  evening's  best  light." 

Arrived  at  Luino,  the  little  landing-place  commanded  so 
noble  a  view  of  the  encircling  Alps,  every  moment  clearing 
and  glistening  in  the  emerging  sun,  that  we  resolved, 
instead  of  encountering  and  paying  for  the  grimaces  and 
attentions  of  the  Luino  innkeepers,  to  bide  in  the  boat  until 
a  carriage,  ordered  to  convey  us  to  Lugano,  about  fifteen 
miles  distant,  could  be  got  ready.  It  came  before  we  had 
"  drunk  our  fill"  of  the  noble  panorama  around  us.  What  a 
pleasant  drive  that  to  Lugano  was ! — not  the  less  so  for  a 
few  makeshifts,  which  reminded  us  of  the  "  Hwill  do,  any- 
Tiow,  your  "honour^'  of  the  poor  old  "  Isle  of  the  West." 
As  we  ascended  the  hill  from  Luino,  the  leather  portion 
of  a  hind-spring  gave  way ;  we  jumped  out,  the  little  non- 
descript carriage  was  aground.  Now,  in  such  a  dilemma, 
one  of  your  high-finished,  well-hung  Long-acre  travelling 
carriages  would  have  been  disabled,  and  we,  its  freight, 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.   297 

embargoed  until  repairs  had  been  made,  secundem  artem. 
In  Ireland,  Paddy,  the  postilion,  would  soon  find  out 
a  rope  makeshift  for  the  occasion ;  and  our  Italian 
"cocchiere"  proved  himself  quite  as  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency. The  fractured  leather  we  found  to  be  a  piece  of 
stout,  flexible  oxhide ;  it  had  literally  worn  out  from  use 
where  the  buckle  pressed  it;  it  needed  but  to  make  a 
buckle-hole  an  inch  or  two  up  in  the  leather,  and  all 
would  be  right  as  ever.  I  saw  our  coachman  fumbling 
and  labouring  with  an  old  blunt  apology  for  a  knife,  to 
repair  the  injury,  and  producing  to  him  a  piece  of  high- 
finished  English  cutlery  with  the  manifold  conveniences  of 
a  travelling-knife,  for  boring,  sawing,  or  sewing,  the  work 
was  done  in  an  instant.  As  the  man  returned  my  knife 
with  an  Italian  profusion  of  thanks,  I  saw  him  look  at  it 
with  admiration  for  a  minute,  and  murmur  to  himself: 
"  What  a  people  are  these  English ! — what  a  people !"  I 
wonder  how  long  it  will  be  before  Italy  turns  out  anything 
like  an  ordinary  Sheffield  penknife ! 

But  to  resume.  What  a  pleasant  drive  that  was  over 
the  mountains  and  through  the  woods  to  Lugano ;  the 
sweet,  fresh  smell  of  a  well-washed  Italian  landscape — ^the 
sun  bright,  and  yet  not  too  warm — the  giddy  speculations 
of  my  foolish  girls,  as  to  "  how  well  a  bandit  would  look 
perched  on  some  overhanging  cragl" — then  the  hearty, 
neighbour-like  pleasantry  with  which  the  Swiss  at  the 
Barrier  welcomed  and  sped  the  "  Inglese" — "always  glad 
to  see  the  Inglese ;"  all  this  was  agreeable  and  exhila- 
rating in  the  highest  degree;  and  we  drove,  without 
accident,  into  the  little  idly-busy  town  of  Lugano,  the 
capital  of  the  Swiss  canton  Tessin. 


,  ! 


298 


GLEAITEKGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


Has  our  reader  ever  seen  a  great  unwieldy  ox,  or  an 
irritable  thin-skinned  horse,  teased  by  the  gad-fly  ?  If  so, 
he  has  an  excellent  illustration  of  the  annoyance  which 
this  same  little  free-spoken  democratic  Swiss  canton 
causes  to  its  gigantic  neighbour  Austria  on  the  one  hand, 
and  jealous  Sardinia  on  the  other ;  as  it  sits  buzzing  in 
saucy  independence  between  them,  its  stinging  free  press, 
its  audacious  outspoken  democracy,  keeps  them  in  a 
perpetual  fever  of  watchfulness ;  it  would  be  too  much  to 
say  that  we  perceived  any  difference  in  the  atmosphere 
breathed  by  free  men,  but  we  were  soon  aware  that 
Lugano  was  pervaded  by  a  spirit  very  different  from  the 
Italian  towns  through  which  we  had  for  some  time  been 
passing ;  a  slight  but  significant  symptom  of  this  showed 
itself,  when  among  the  placards  on  the  blank  walls,  these 
in  themselves  novelties,  we  saw  "  L'Ehreo  Errante''  (The 
Wandering  Jew),  and  other  books  of  like  tendency, 
announced  as  printed  and  published  by  the  Lugano  press, 
with  most  daring  publicity,  under  the  very  nose  of 
absolutism  in  Church  and  State ;  even  we  strangers  found 
some  of  the  inconveniences  of  a  single  night's  domicile  in 
this  little  pestilent  democratic  state ;  there  are  no  less 
than  three  newspapers  published  in  the  petty,  but  free, 
town  of  Lugano ;  they  put  forth,  we  doubt  not,  very 
plain-spoken  speculations  on  the  neighbouring  despotisms 
as  occasion  may  offer ;  whereupon  these  despotisms  fidget 
and  fume,  and  keep  watch  and  ward  to  try  and  exclude 
such  strictures  from  circulating  within  their  own  domi- 
nions; but,  as  I  suspect,  with  doubtful  success.  In  a 
long  continental  tour  we  nowhere  experienced  such  strict 
and  sifting  examination  of  luggage  as  when  we  arrived  at 


THE  "opening  op  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.       299 

the  Austrian  barrier  in  passing  from  Lugano  to  Como. 
My  little  travelling-library  was  carefully  ransacked,  every 
book   opened  and   scrutinised ;   of  ancient  and  classic- 
looking   volumes  they   seemed  to  take  small  note,  but 
anything  of  modern  type  or  binding  was  closely  looked 
after,  and  compared  with  an  "  Index  prohihitorimi  /"     I 
had  some  few  books  of  incendiary  appearance  over  which 
these  Dogberrys  pondered  a  good  deal,  but  none  of  them 
seemed  to  excite  so  much    doubt  and   suspicion  as  a 
"Continental  Bradshaw!"    the  elaborate  railway  time- 
tables and  section-maps  seemed  to  have  a  very  "  gunpowder 
look"  to  the  eyes  of  our  inquirers ;  but  at  length,  with 
some  misgivings,  they  let  them  go.     All  the  while,  to  my 
infinite    amusement,    a    whole    budget    of   newspapers, 
reeking  from  the  democratic  Lugano  press,  lay  snugly  in 
the  folds  of  the  hood  of  the  coupe  of  our  carriage,  where 
the  driver  had  stowed  them  just  as  we  left  the  town,  and 
where  the  stolid  "  Tudesche''  never  thought  of  looking  for 
them.     I  thought  of  "  IVIrs.  Partington  and  her  mop" — 
of  "Napoleon  the   Great  and  his  Berlin  decrees" — of 
''Napoleon  tie  Little T    and  his  new  device  of  "three 
warnings"  for  muzzling  the  press  of  France — of  those 
wiseacres   of  the   "  collective  wisdom"    who   sometimes 
"run-a-muck"   against  the  reporters  of  the  House  of 
Commons;    and    then  I  thought  how  futile   were  all 
attempts  to  stifle  the  expression  of  opinion — "  for  better, 
for  worse,"  the  oozings  of  the  press  will  filter  through  all 
barriers.     Of  course,  I  said  nothing,  locked  up  my  over- 
hauled trunks,  and  on  we  passed  with  our  contraband 
cargo  of  democratic  combustibles  towards  Como. 
I  should  have  mentioned  before,  that  we  had  floated 


300 


»> 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


H 


p.: 


over  the  dark  waters  of  the  Lugano  through  the  gloaming 
of  the  delicious  summer  evening  of  our  arrival,  with  the 
noble  Monte  Salvador  impending  over  us,  and  showing  its 
bold  outline  in  ever-changing  proportions  wherever  we 
went.  We  had  also  that  same  evening  the  after-part  of 
the  thunderstorm  of  the  night  before  at  Bavenno ;  the 
display  of  lightning  and  growls  of  remote  thunder  were 
awfully  grand ;  and  as  we  scudded  across  the  lake  home- 
wards, we  enjoyed  these  great  pyrotechnics  of  nature  in 
perfection,  while  the  "waterworks"  were  so  obliging  as  to 
"  hold  hard"  until  we  were  fairly  housed,  when  they  poured 
forth  somewhat  in  the  style  of  Southey's  description  of 
"  how  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore;"  we  fell  asleep 
listening, 

"  As  they  came  plashing, 
And  rumbling,  and  dashing ;" 

felicitating  ourselves  that  they  were  washing  the  steep 
streets,  and  preparing  freshness  and  coolness  for  the 
journey  of  to-morrow. 

"We  had  originally  planned  to  cross  from  Lugano  to 
Porlezza,  thereby  taking  in  the  savage  Alpine  scenery  of 
the  upper  reach  of  Lugano  lake,  hoping  thus  to  come  on 
"  the  Larian,"  last  and  fairest  of  this  beautiful  Italian 
triad,  at  Menagio,  and  thence  to  go  down  to  Como  town  ; 
but  we  heard  such  tales  of  the  searching  strictness  of  the 
Austrian  douaniers  in  that  direction,  and  of  their  feverish 
vigilance  against  suspected  characters,  who  were  in  the 
habit  of  smuggling,  not  silks,  but  sentiments  into  the  Co- 
mesque  territory  through  the  mountains,  that  I  determined 
not  to  risk  difficulty  or  interruption  in  that  remote  comer ; 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.   301 

our  route  was,  therefore,  changed,  and  with  considerable 
advantage.  Securing  the  coupe  of  a  diligence  over-night, 
we  started  at  six  o'clock  next  morning  for  Como,  via 
Codelago — an  abbreviation  for  "  Capo  di  Lago" — a  beau- 
tiful village  at  the  "head"  (I  should  say  "  foot")  of  Lu- 
gano lake.  The  drive  was  all  beauty  and  all  enjoyment 
(including  the  game  of  "  hide  and  seek"  at  the  Austrian 
barrier  before  detailed),  and  at  ten  o'clock  we  drove  into 
Como,  where,  taking  up  our  heavy  baggage  (which  we  had 
despatched  by  railroad  when  we  left  Milan  to  meet  us 
there),  without  housing  ourselves  in  a  town  with  little  of 
particular  interest,  we  at  once  engaged  a  boat  to  take 
U8  up  the  lake  to  Bellaggio — the  sweetest  of  resting- 
places,  where,  as  at  Cadenabbia,  on  the  opposite  shore, 
they  seem  to  be  turning  the  whole  village  into  an  inn ; 
and  no  wonder  ;  who  would  linger  in  the  dust  and  white 
glare  of  Como  when  he  could  luxuriate  in  coolness  and 
quiet  among  the  rich  groves  of  Bellaggio,  with  the  main 
waters  of  Como  on  one  hand,  and  the  placid  depths  of 
Lecco  on  the  other  ? 

These  same  waters  of  Lecco  have  a  mysterious  look  of 
depth  and  profundity  peculiar  to  themselves ;  and  geolo- 
gical observation  has  associated  with  them  remarkable 
convulsions  of  nature.  I  asked  one  of  our  boatmen  how 
deep  they  might  be  ?  and  his  mode  of  measurement  was 
quaint  and  original :  "  Frofondo  di  duccento  uomini, 
Signor*' — "Two  hundred  men  deep  !"  and  yet  it  was  no 
very  clear  reply  after  all ;  it  might  mean  a  fifth,  more  or 
less,  according  as  he  took  his  "  standard  man"  from  me  or 
himself,  for  I  stood  full  six  feet  high,  while  the  fellow 
himself  would  have  been  drowned  in  "five  feet,  nothing!'* 


ii! 


302 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


If 


The  celebrated  Stelvio  road,  forming  the  main  commu- 
nication between  Austria  and  her  Italian  territories,  fringes 
the  eastern  shore  of  Como  lake,  and  the  tunnels  near 
Varenna  were  indicated  to  us  as  "  lions"  on  no  account  to 
be  missed.  We  therefore  laid  our  plans  for  seeing  them 
en  passant  on  the  morrow,  by  taking  boat  early;  and  "  how 
pleasant  it  would  be  to  save  time  and  breakfast  in  this 
nice  boat,  with  its  pavilion  cushions  and  awnings  !"  We 
merely  hinted  this,  and — presto! — it  was  done.  The 
Como  boat  is  far  in  advance  of  those  of  Lugano  and  Ma^ 
giore  in  its  accommodations.  ^^We  are  more  polished  here^'* 
the  Comesque  boatman  said,  drawing  himself  up  proudly, 
in  reply  to  our  remark  to  this  effect ;  and  so  they  are ;  with 
your  table  before  you,  you  can  draw,  work,  write,  or  read 
at  ease,  the  awning  overhead  defends  from  the  power  of 
the  sun,  and  yet  leaves  the  view  free  on  all  sides ;  and  in 
this  tented  house  we  found  next  morning  breakfast  appa- 
ratus, our  kettle  bubbling  on  a  "  braziero,"  all  ready  in  the 
grey  dawn  for  our  repast,  at  any  hour  and  on  any  part  of 
the  lake  we  might  select ;  the  whole  set-out  was  a  quiet 
indication  of  the  delicious  and  equable  climate  in  which 
such  an  indulgence,  al  fresco^  could  be  thought  of  or  ac- 
complished ;  one  of  those  gusts  which  will  sweep  on  the 
fairest  day,  over  mountain  lakes  in  our  northern  regions, 
would  have  sent  our  whole  apparatus  of  comfort  and 
crockery  into  "  immortal  smash."  I  closed  my  eyes  that 
night  on  the  sweet  moonlit  lake  under  my  window,  having 
performed  the  necessary  duty  of  paying  my  bill,  and  re- 
ceiving from  a  huge  glumdalca  of  a  chambermaid,  with, 
however,  a  voice  like  a  seraph,  that  ne  plus  ultra  of  civil 
good  wishes,  "  Felidssima  notte,  Signer, ^^ 


THE  "  OPENING  OP  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.   303 


t.. 


We  started  with  the  rise  of  a  glowing  June  sun  for  the 
Stelvio  tunnels,  which  still  hold  their  place  in  Italian 
admiration  as  wonders  of  the  world;  but  to  those  who 
have  seen  or  glided  through  those  truly  wondrous  exca- 
vations of  our  English  railways,  or  that  one  (more  won- 
derful, I  believe,  than  any  of  our  English  works) — the 
tunnelled  mountain  between  Avignon  and  MarseiQes — the 
Stelvio  passes  will  seem  poor  and  common  efforts  of  genius 
or  labour ;  they  are  simply  bored  through  limestone  strata, 
inclined  at  about  half  a  right  angle  in  well-defined  beds. 
To  complete  the  tunnel,  nothing  more  was  required  than 
to  remove  the  adjacent  strata  to  form  the  roadway,  leaving 
those  overhead  to  form  the  super-eminent  arch,  much  in 
the  fashion  of  a  "  lean-to  shed ;"  there  was  in  them  no- 
thing at  all  of  that  sturdy  struggle  of  science,  with  chalk 
and  slush  and  running  sands,  by  which  the  English  tunnel 
advances  its  wondrous  length  of  brick  or  stone  through 
the  obstacles  or  impediments  of  nature.  The  truth  must 
be  confessed,  that,  as  wonder-workers,  "  Joint-stock"  ad- 
venturers have  put  Autocrats  out  of  countenance  and 
fashion,  the  will  and  control  of  One  Imperial  and  impe- 
rious mind  has  effected  some  surprising  things  in  days 
gone  by ;  but  that  secret  of  combining  smaller  forces  into 
"monster  companies"  which  is  a  discovery  of  our  age, 
can  now  bring  to  bear  on  such  enterprises  a  power  of 
capital  and  labour  far  beyond  what  the  resources  of  any 
single  individual  could  command ;  and  commerce  and 
"dividend-day"  are  likely  to  leave  more  lasting  and  stu- 
pendous trophies  of  their  achievements  than  even  con- 
querors and  despotism. 

Our  original  plan  had  been  to  loiter  at  the  tunnels  until 


304 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


we  saw  the  steam-boat  from  Como  to  Colico  looming  in 
the  distance,  and  then  to  put  off  and  meet  her  in  the  mid- 
waters,  but  finding  nothing  to  detain  us  at  these  objects 
after  we  had,  in  Tom-Sheridan  fashion,  enabled  ourselves 
"to  say  we  had  walked  through  them,'*  and  finding  an 
inviting  fresh  breeze  up  the  lake,  assured,  moreover,  by  our 
boatmen  that  they  could  with  ease  land  us  at  our  destina- 
tion at  Colico  long  before  the  steamer,  we  determined,  at 
the  cost  of  a  few  shillings  extra,  to  proceed  at  our  own 
rate,  and  in  our  own  boat,  to  our  destination.  We  thought, 
and  I  am  sure  every  reader  (not  of  the  Manchester 
"go-ahead"  school)  will  agree  with  us,  that  we  could 
enjoy  the  splendid  Alpine  scenery,  towards  which  we  were 
advancing,  much  more  while  gliding  along  in  a  pleasure- 
boat,  than  if  packed  and  crowded  in  the  great  groaning, 
wheezing  monster  of  a  steamer,  having  the  gale  as  it  came 
from  garden  or  grove,  flavoured  with  coal  smoke  or  garlic! 
"We  therefore  re-embarked,  reached  Colico  with  ease  a  full 
half  hour  before  the  Como  steamer;  and  by  doing  so 
secured  to  ourselves  that  great  desideratum  of  travelling 
comfort — the  coupe  of  the  diligenza  for  Chiavenua. 

At  Colico  the  Alps  appear  to  impend  overhead,  and  yet 
as  you  advance  the  way  seems  to  realise  the  poet's  descrip- 
tion of 

"  Wilds  immeasurably  spread, 
WMch  lengthen  as  we  go." 

It  is  wonderful  what  deep  valleys  lie  in  the  recesses  of  this 
huge  frontier-chain,  which  at  a  distance  seems  one  plain 
wall  of  perpendicular  precipice.  Chiavenna  lies  in  one  of 
these  valleys  under  the  Alpine  barrier,  where  it  rises  in 
good  earnest  to  the  pass  of  the  Splughen ;  let  us  speed  qb 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.   305 

hastily  as  we  may  over  the  parched  yet  swampy  stages 
between  Colico  and  Chiavenna,  where  malaria  is  ever  "at 
home"  in  a  region  alternately  deluged  by  the  melting  snow 
torrents,  or  baked  in  the  fierce  southern  sun's  rays  reflected 
from  the  mountains  over  them.     As  we  drove  through  this 
district  in  the  parching  heat  of  a  summer's  day,  it  looked 
dry  and  adust  as  an  Arabian  desert,  yet  we  crossed  at 
intervals  broad  beds  of  debris  from  the  impending  moun- 
tains, telling  plainly  in  their  extent,  and  the  size  of  the 
huge  boulders  which  lay  here  and  there,  what  volumes  of 
water  must  occasionally  pass  that  way,  in  their  course  to  a 
sullen,  dirty-looking  "mere,"  called  Lago  diEiva,  fitter  to 
be  an  Essex  fen  than  to  blot  an  Italian  landscape.     As  we 
looked  at  this  dirty  pool,  it  seemed  scarce  credible  that  it 
was  one  of  the  feeders  of  the  lovely  Como  lake,  whose 
waters  danced  and  sparkled  in  the  sunshine  lower  down, 
yet  so  it  was — all  the  Guide-books  shout  warning  in  your 
ears  against  lodging,  or  eyen  falling  asleep,  in  this  pesti- 
lential district;   yet  I  think,  upon  the  principle  of  the 
well-known  story  "don't  ride  the  big  dog!"   they  had 
better  have  said  nothing  about  the  matter,  for  my  expe- 
rience testifies,  that  in  our  whole  tour  I  nowhere  felt  such 
irresistible  tendency  to  somnolency  and  a  mid-day  nap,  as 
here,  and  on  a  former  occasion,  in  crossing  the  Pontine 
Marshes,  to  which  a  similar  warning  is  attached.   Query — 
Should  I  have  felt  sleepy  if  they  had  kept  silence  on  the 
subject  ? 

We  arrived  at  Chiavenna  just  in  time;  a  day  sooner,  and 
we  should  have  been  greeted  with  a  repetition  of  the 
Milan  warning,  "  Not  open  yet,  Signer;"  a  day  later,  and 
we  should  have  missed  the  adventure  of  ''opening  the 


m 


306 


ii 


GIjEAJSTHQS  after  "  GBAKD  TOIJE   -ISTS. 


pass;'^  the  transit  of  the  Splughen  would  have  sunk  into 
an  hum-drum  ordinary  transaction ;  had  we  come  when  we 
originally  intended,  we  should  have  lost  our  ffiro  of  the 
lakes,  and  been  compelled  to  join  a  corps  of  grumblers, 
some  of  whom  had  garrisoned  the  inn  for  a  week  and  up- 
wards ;  full  six-and-twenty  had  sat  down  for  some  days  at 
the  table  d'hote,  and  when  we  joined  them,  we  made  up  the 
ftdl  tale  of  the  Canterbury  pilgrims,  when 

"  At  night  was  come  into  that  hostelrie, 
Wei  nine-and-twenty  in  a  compagnie, 
Of  sundry  folk — by  adventure  yfaDe 
In  fellowship — and  pilgrimes  were  they  alle, 
That  toward  Coire  of  the  Orisons  wolden  ride, 
The  chambers  and  the  stables  weren  wide." 

Other  arrivals  in  the  course  of  the  evening  swelled  our 
numbers,  and  the  distracted  maesftro  di  posta  (of  whom 
more  anon)  bound  to  forward  all,  was  at  his  wits'  end  to 
provide  conveyances  for  over  thirty  passengers  on  the 
morrow.  I  will  not  follow  up  Chaucer's  description  by 
affirming  that 

"  Whan  the  sonne  was  gon  to  rest, 
So  had  I  spoken  with  hem  everich  one, 
That  I  was  of  thir  felawship  anon." 

But  I  had  spoken  to  some  near  me — made  acquaintance 
with  a  countryman  of  mine  own,  who,  traversing  the  world 
under  the  torturing  infliction  of  tic-douloureux,  had,  never- 
theless, all  the  frank,  cordial  bearing  of  the  Irish  gentleman 
{not  jontlemaiij  observe),  with  whom  I  agreed  that  he,  my 
daughters,  and  myself,  should  endeavour  to  make  a  quar- 
tette in  whatever  carriage  fell  to  our  lot  to-morrow ;  as  to 


THE  "OPEl^INO  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CfllATENI^^A.       307 


the  rest  of  our  mixed  multitude,  I  amused  myself,  as  is  my 
wont,  in  speculations  on  their  characters  and  positioiis. 
One  group  afforded  us  much  amusement. 

Of  course  we  had  with  us  Dickens's  "  Pictures  from 
Italy,"  those  Bozzean  sketches  which  are  as  truthful  as 
daguerreotypes,  and  humorous  as  H.  B.'s  caricatures; 
going  nearly  step  for  step  over  his  ground,  I  can  vouch 
for  his  accuracy  and  truthfulness,  and  if  any  professors  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  faith  feel  that  soreness  which  he  de- 
precates, it  will  only  be  a  confession,  that  when  mirthful 
satire  limits  itself  to  truth,  its  slightest  fiUip  is  felt  harder 
to  bear,  than  more  weighty  and  downright  blows  dealt  in 
solemn  earnest — and  that  ridicule  has  a  sharper  edge  for 
some  follies  than  argument.     I  am  reminded  of  Boz  and 
his  pictures  here  by  a  tableau  at  the  head  of  our  tai^le 
d'Mte,  which  we,  in  imagination,  set  down  for  Mr.  Dickens 
and  his  family,  as  he  has  sketched  them  in  his  graphic 
scene  of  arrival  at  the  "  Hotel  de  I'Ecu  d'Or;"  in  number 
they  tallied  exactly.     "  The  sweet  lady"  of  the  family — 
"  Mademoiselle  Charmante" — her  sister — "  first  little  boy" 
—"  first  little  girl"-— "  second  little  boy"— "  second  little 
girl"  —  "the  baby  that  topped  everything"  —  "the  two 
nurses" — aU,  all  were  there,  even  to  the  '^  brave  courier," 
attending  everybody,  and  to  everything.     The  head  of  the 
family  himself  was  a  good,  and  not  unintellectual  looking 
man  enough.     We  were  amusing  ourselves  with  the  coin- 
cidence, "  Could  it  be  Dickens  .**"  when,  lo,  it  transpired  in 
the  buzz  of  conversation  around  us,  that  it  was  only  a 
German  baron,  who  had  been  spending  a  year  at  Venice, 
and  was  now  returning  to  his  own  country;  what  con- 
ceivable attraction  he  could  have  found  in  a  city  rotting 

x2 


308 


ti 


n 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


THE  "  OPENING  OP  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENNA.       309 


away  piecemeal,  where  few  travellers  exceed  a  fortnight, 
it  was  hard  to  conceive,  except  it  might  be  that  he  lingered 
on  the  speculation  of  getting  rid  of  family  surplusage,  by 
losing  a  child  or  two  out  of  a  window  into  the  Grand 
Canal.  A  more  dreary  gymnasium  for  childhood  than 
Venice  one  cannot  easily  picture  to  imagination  ;  and  yet 
here  was  apere  dufamille  who  had  domiciled  himself  there 
for  a  year!  None — not  "to  the  manner  born" — save  a 
German,  could  have  done  such  a  thing. 

Chiavenna  stands  prettily  under  the  Alps,  in  a  valley 
which  branches  eastward  into  the  deep  defile  of  the  Bre- 
gaglia,  memorable  as  the  grave  of  a  city  buried  "  quick," 
with  its  2000  inhabitants,  over  two  hundred  years  ago.  I 
walked  up  the  valley  after  dinner  with  Bishop  Burnet's 
striking  narrative,  written  freshly  after  the  event,  in  my 
hand,  in  order  to  see  if  I  could  identify  the  locality  and 
make  out  the  geological  causes  of  such  a  catastrophe.  The 
evening  deepened  round  me  as  I  advanced  up  the  lonely 
gorge,  for  I  had  long  lost  the  sun,  though  still  bright  upon 
the  lowlands  of  Italy.  I  very  soon  found  that,  wherever 
the  grave  of  the  buried  city  lay,  nature  had  been  too  rapid 
and  luxuriant  in  its  growth  of  natural  forest  to  allow  me 
any  hope  of  identif3ring  it.  At  length  I  arrived  at  a  point 
of  road  where  a  wilderness  of  crag  and  rock,  from  every 
crevice  of  which  shrubs  and  trees  were  springing,  covered 
the  whole  level  of  the  valley,  and  just  as  I  began  to  doubt 
whether  I  should  proceed  further,  an  old  peasant  came  up, 
and  I  asked  him  "  Whereabouts  Pleurs  had  stood  ?"  His 
answer  was  short,  but  impressive.  "You  are  standing 
just  over  the  church,  Signor  !"  I  then  became  aware,  by 
degrees,  of  the  character  of  the  scene  around  me  ;  fringed 


and  shaded  everywhere  by  the  rich  vegetation  and  groves, 
which  had  grown  spontaneously  among  and  over  the  fallen 
masses,  lay  the  fragments  from  a  huge  mountain  opposite, 
called  Monte  Conto,  off  which  a  sliver  or  slice  had  sepa- 
rated, and  come  down  in  sudden  and  overwhelming  ruin 
on  the  miserable  town  beneath,  leaving  still  a  wall  or  face 
of  bare  rock  frowning  in  majesty  over  the  desolation  below. 
I  subsequently  saw  the  ruins  of  the  Eossberg  mountain 
in  Switzland,  the  fall  of  which  effected  such  havoc  about 
thirty  years  since  ;  and  I  may  hereafter  endeavour  to  ex- 
plain the  causes  of  that  catastrophe,  but  those  of  the 
destruction  of  Pleurs  were  altogether  different ;  the  com- 
parison I  am  about  to  make  may  seem  petty,  but  it  is 
applicable.  I  know  no  better  similitude  for  the  vast  ruin 
on  which  I  looked  than  to  imagine  that  the  stone-fronting 
or  casing  of  Somerset  House,  or  some  other  great  London 
edifice,  were  to  tumble  bodily  on  the  street  beneath, 
leaving  the  interior  wall  of  rubble  masonry  still  standing. 
Magnify  this  idea  proportionably  by  some  twenty  thou- 
sand times,  and  you  will  have  the  proximate  cause  of  the 
destruction  of  the  city  of  Pleurs,  with  its  palaces  and 
people,  in  the  year  of  grace  1618.  Tradition  reports 
them  to  have  been  a  people  specially  wicked,  and  fre- 
quently warned  of  some  deserved  judgment ;  but,  in  the 
words  of  Him  who  is  "patient  because  He  is  eternal,"  I 
would  say,  "Suppose  ye  that  these  men  were  sinners 
above  all  otliers,  because  they  suffered  such  things  ;  I  tell 
you  nay,  but  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish !" 
By  my  walk  up  the  Bregaglia  valley  I  had  missed  an 
amusing  interlude,  which  was,  however,  so  graphically 
described  to  me  on  my  return,  that  I  will  here  insert  it. 


ii 

u 


310 


it 


i> 


GLEAIiriNQS  AFTEB  "  GEAKD  TOTTE   -ISTS. 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  CHIAVENIfA. 


311 


As  my  daughters  aat  in  the  inn  window  enjoying  the 
cool  Italian  evening,  an  improvised  Italian  comedy  sud- 
denly commenced  in  the  public  square  below.  From  a 
Como  diligence  descended  a  small,  swarthy,  dusty,  daring 
individual,  just  returned  from  achieving  the  adventure  of 
"  The  Great  Exhibition  !"  He  had  made  one  of  a  party 
"delivered  at  so  much  a  head'*  in  London,  by  some  re- 
tired courier,  who  had  turned  contractor  for  the  occasion  ; 
and  from  what  I  saw  and  heard  here  and  elsewhere  of  the 
helplessness  of  foreign  trayellers,  I  have  little  doubt  that 
during  the  Exhibition  season  many  an  unfortunate  foreigner 
arrived  in  London  was  " stalled  and  fed"  in  the  purlieus 
of  Leicester-square,  walked  by  his  keeper  for  exercise  to 
and  from  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  ultimately  delivered  up 
safe  at  home,  with  as  little  opportunity  of  forming  a  true 
or  adequate  idea  of  the  "World  of  London"  as  a  mouse 
in  a  pantry  can  have  of  the  proportions  of  a  palace. 

I  doubt  if  Albert  Smith  was  received  with  more  honours 
at  Chamouni,  after  having  achieved  Mont  Blanc,  than  the 
daring  Chiavennese  obtained  from  his  townsmen  as  he 
descended  from  his  seat  en  banquette — all  dusty  and  travel- 
stained.  At  once  the  town  was  astir;  they  gazed  in 
wonder — they  crowded  round — some  embraced  (how  they 
do  embrace) — hundreds  asked  questions ;  the  traveller,  to 
do  him  justice,  tried  what  a  man  could  do  to  answer  all ; 
but  it  was  an  impossibility.  Curiosity  at  last  found  an 
expedient.  A  table  was  put  in  requisition  from  the  inn ; 
the  little  man,  all  adust  as  he  stood,  was  elevated  thereon; 
a  circle  formed  in  the  little  piazza,  with  the  great  ruined 
feudal  castle  of  the  De  Salis,  Counts  of  Chiavenna,  frown- 


ing overhead ;  and  then  and  there,  with  the  impromptu 
facility  indigenous  to  Italy,  the  Exhibition  hero  delivered 
his  "  exposition'^  of  the  sights  he  had  seen,  and  the  dangers 
he  had  passed ;  and  a  curious  exposition  it  must  have  been, 
in  its  original  freshness,  for  it  charmed  me  at  second-hand. 
The  orator  did  not  disdain  the  use  of  diagrams  to  aid  his 
eloquence.  When  language  failed  to  convey  his  sense  of 
the  magnitude  of  London,  he  pulled  from  his  breast  a 
copy  of  the  Illustrated  News — "  I  saw  it  all  printed — / 
myself,  i^— all,  all— and  as  quick  as  tliatV  said  the  nar- 
rator, using  one  of  the  indescribable  Italian  gestures  to 
signify  rapidity.  He  then  pointed  to  the  well-known  vig- 
nette of  that  wondrous  journal,  saying,  "  Such  is  London 
^-ecco !"  Whereupon  more  than  one  of  his  wondering 
auditors  audibly  expressed  astonishment:  "Ah,  what  a 
city !  what  wonders  !  It  must  he  almost  as  hig  as  Milan .'" 
The  whole  description  was  much  in  the  same  proportion 
to  the  subject.  The  amusement  of  the  two  English  girls 
who  sat  listening  as  well  as  they  could  to  the  Italian  nar- 
rative, was  infinite,  and  according  to  their  account,  the 
piece  of  pantomime  by  which  he  attempted  to  give  his 
company  an  idea  of  the  department  of  the  Exhibition  in 
which  the  machinery  was  worked  by  that  docile  and  inde- 
fatigable giant  Steam,  must  have  been  a  rich  treat  indeed. 
One  cannot  see  everything,  and  I  am  sorry  I  missed  this, 
but  the  lecture  was  concluded  just  as  I  walked  into  the 
piazza,  and  I  only  arrived  in  time  to  see  the  lion  of  the 
evening  retire  amidst  the  vivas  of  his  admiring  friends. 

There  was  a  perfect  Babel  of  nations  and  tongues  in 
the  salle  of  Chiavenna,  as  we  separated  for  the  night, 


312 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


THE  "  OPENING  OP  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLTJGHEN.        313 


before  tlie  "opening  of  the  pass,"  with  an  intimation 
similar  to  that  given  to  the  Canterbury  pilgrims,  that  we 
must 

"  make  forword  erly  for  to  rise 
To  take  our  way  ther  as  I  you  devise." 

Our  "ybnrori?,"  or  covenant,  was  for  three  o'clock  next 
morning,  and  the  reveil  duly  sounded  accordingly,  and 
yet  we  might  with  impunity  have  snoozed  for  two  hours 
longer,  for  our  train  of  pilgrims  was  not  gotten  into  motion 
until  six,  in  consequence  of  a  parting  act  of  Italian  ras- 
cality, which  shall  be  told  in  due  course ;  but  having 
brought  myself  and  readers  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  I 
think  it  as  well  here  to  pause  and  take  breath  for  the 
ascent.  '         * 


CHAPTEE  XYII. 

THE   "  OPENING   OP   THE   PASS" 
TO  SPLUGHEN. 

We  were  up  at  three  in  the  cold  grey  light  of  an  Italian 
sunrise,  to  encounter  that  piece  of  Italian  rascality  of 
which  I  gave  hint  before,  and  which  I  must,  with  some 
national  vanity  as  a  British  subject,  introduce  by  a  little 
episode  of  testimony  to  the  foreigner's  sense  of  English 
integrity ;  the  only  place  in  our  tour  where  I  had  bur- 
dened myself  or  my  purse  with  a  "  laquais  de  place"  was 
at  Naples,  and  there  he  proved  no  burden  at  all,  but  a 
valuable  light ener  of  our  troubles.  Steady,  intelligent, 
ever  "  content  with  his  wages,"  I  am  sure  he  saved  us  the 
amount  we  paid  him,  by  protecting  us  at  our  first  landing 
in  Italy  from  varieties  of  imposture.  Guisseppe  had  been 
in  England,  too,  as  a  courier,  and  seemed  always  to  recur 
to  England  and  its  ways  with  a  pleasurable  regret.  A 
few  days  before  we  left  Naples,  I  desired  him  to  go  and 
engage  for  us  a  "  veturino"  for  Eome ;  it  was  done  imme- 
diately.   I  had  already  specified  the  price  for  which  I 


314i 


QLBAiriirGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0TJE"-ISTS. 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS**  TO  SPLTTGHEN.        315 


expected  to  have  a  carriage,  and  G-uisseppe  brought  me 
back  the  ^^  contratto'^  ready  filled,  for  even  a  less  sum  than 
I  reckoned  on.  I  expressed  myself  satisfied ;  and  then  he 
said : 

"  The  Signer  had  best  come  and  see  the  carriage  for 
himself." 

"  Why  ?"  said  I ;  "you  have  seen  it,  and  tell  me  it  is 
comfortable,  and  what  more  is  necessary  ?" 

"  Cospetto,  Signor,*'  said  he,  coming  up  close  to  me, 
"see  your  carriage  for  yourself,  and  know  it  again,  or 
they  may  put  the  change  upon  you ;  and  then,  if  a  '  povero 
diavolo'  like  me  dared  to  interfere,  when  you  were  gone  I 
might  taste  the  knife  some  dark  evening  P'* 

"Ay!"  said  I,  "let  us  go,  then;  but  it  is  not  so  in 
England." 

"  Iddio,  Engla/ndr  said  Guisseppe,  "  wo,  no ;  in  England 
your  bargain  is  made,  and  it  stands.  Tour  yes  is  yes,  and 
your  no,  no;  but  here  yes  is  this!  and  no  is  thatP^^ 
making  some  indescribable  movement  with  his  flexible 
fingers,  indicative  of  utter  nothingness — ^^  come  and  see 
your  carriage  for  yourself  that  you  may  know  it  again, 
Signor.^^ 

Justice  to  every  one,  I  must  say,  though  we  had  our 
own  grumblings  with  veturinos  afterwards,  in  the  long 
viaggio  from  Eome  to  Venice  I  never  experienced,  or 
rather  saw  proof,  of  the  justice  of  Guisseppe' s  caution 
until  we  came  to  deal  with  the  villanous  maestro  di  posta 
at  the  foot  of  the  Alps. 

Thus  it  happened — among  our  "band  of  pilgrims"  at 
table  the  day  before,  was  a  lady,  no  bad  representative  in 
appearance  for  Chaucer's  "  Wife  of  Bathe :" 


"  Bold  was  hyr  face,  and  faire  and  red  of  hew." 

I  do  not  presume  to  insinuate  that  the  resemblance  went 
further  than  personal  appearance.  A  lady  she  evidently 
was,  well-bred,  and  wealthy,  travelling  with  an  invalid 
sister,  who  did  not  appear  at  table,  and  waited  on  by  her 
own  attendant  courier  and  femme  de  chamhre.  They  had 
been  among  the  earliest  arrivals  at  Chiavenna,  had  passed 
near  a  week  awaiting  "  the  opening  of  the  pass,"  and  had 
availed  themselves  of  their  priority  of  choice  to  secure  by 
extra  pay  the  entire  coupe  of  the  diligence,  three  places 
for  two,  with  a  view  to  the  accommodation  of  the  invalid. 

I  was  unaware  of  this,  when  the  evening  before,  while 
examining  my  own  tickets  in  the  bureau,  a  little,  quiet, 
self-possessed  German  lady,  with  two  daughters,  glided 
into  the  office  and  commenced  a  dialogue  with  the  post- 
master ;  he  had  just  assured  me  that  a  coupe  seat  was 
"  imposstUle''  so  I  said  no  more  on  that  head ;  however,  I 
heard  the  same  word  repeated  by  the  new  comer :  a  short 
dialogue  ensued,  terminated  by  the  transfer  of  some 
clinking  matter,  which  found  its  way,  not  to  the  desk 
where  he  deposited  the  seat-fares,  but  to  the  maestro^s 
own  pocket.  And  now,  attending  sharply  to  what  was 
going  on,  I  saw  him  hand  her  the  usual  billet,  and  whisper 
at  the  same  time,  "  It  is  yours,  hut  say  nothing!*'' 

At  dinner-table,  subsequently,  in  conversation  with 
"  the  comely  wife  of  Bathe,"  and  speaking  of  the  rush  of 
voyageurs  for  the  morrow,  she  expressed,  in  a  self-satisfied 
tone,  her  content  in  having  long  since  secured  the  coupe. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  I  said,  relating  the  little  scene  to 
what  I  had  been  witness  in  the  office. 

The  lady  seemed  somewhat  startled,  and  expressed  some 


316 


iC 


»> 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOTJE    -ISTS. 


anxiety  at  tlie  possibility  of  not  being  able  to  obtain  this 
accommodation  for  her  sick  sister. 

"  The  crowd  in  the  rotonde  would  be  her  death,"  she 
said,  and  presently,  with  the  composure  of  an  old  traveller, 
she  had  her  courier  summoned,  and  desired  him  to  "  pre- 
occupy'* the  coupe  with  some  of  their  luggage,  as  a 
precaution  for  securing  her  "  vested  rights."  The  cou- 
rier vanished  to  obey  orders,  but  in  no  short  time  re- 
turned, imprecating  ineffable  maledictions  on  that  "  cativo 
maestro  di  posta'^ — the  coupe  was  given  to  another. 

There  arose  "confusion  worse  confounded" — the  Babel 
of  an  Italian  quarrel,  to  which  the  wildest  "  Irish  row"  is 
quietude.  The  host  was  summoned,  who  had  witnessed 
the  lady's  original  contract;  and  at  last  the  ^^ maestro, ^^ 
livid  and  dogged,  took  his  stand  on  the  assertion  that 
the  last  comers  had  brought  him  a  superseding  order,  a 
"patent  of  precedence"  from  the  bureau  at  Milan!  The 
lying  scoundrel;  the  only  warrant  for  his  conduct  lay 
burning  in  his  breeches-pocket  at  the  moment.  "We  re- 
tired to  our  rooms,  leaving  the  parties  still  in  high  dis- 
pute ;  at  last  they  separated  for  the  night,  to  renew  the 
battle  in  the  morning. 

When  we  descended,  at  about  half-past  three  next 
morning,  after  our  hasty  and  horrible  "  caffe  nero,^*  we 
found  the  war  still  raging,  but  with  a  doubtful  aspect. 
The  courier,  like  a  faithful  "  hrave,^^  had  gone  on  loading 
the  coupe  with  the  thousand-and-one  conveniences  of 
wealthy  travelling  ladies ;  there  were  their  baskets,  their 
butterfly-nets,  their  camp-stools,  stowed  here  and  there, 
and  in  the  midst  of  them,  sly  and  placid,  but  with  an 


a 


n 


THE  "OPENING  OF  THE  PASS      TO  SPLITGHEN. 


317 


anxious  look  withal,  sat  the  little  German  lady  and  her 
daughters,  handed  in  and  given  possession  by  the  maestro 
di  posta  himself.  The  Englishwoman  or  her  sick  sister 
had  not  yet  made  their  appearance.  They  came  pre- 
sently, and  the  courier  explained  the  state  of  the  case. 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  said  my  comely  friend,  turning 
to  me. 

"  Go  and  produce  your  ticket,  and  demand  your  place," 
said  I ;  "  and  I  am  willing,  if  necessary,  to  testify  what  I 
witnessed  last  night." 

I  felt  proud  of  my  countrywoman,  beholding  her  noble 
bearing  as  she  advanced  to  the  usurper ;  the  perfect  lady 
was  in  every  look  and  word,  but  withal,  entire  determina- 
tion to  assert  the  rights  of  which  she  was  conscious. 

"  Madame,"  she  said  in  French,  "you  hold  my  place; 
here  is  my  billet,  dated  a  week  since,  engaging  the  entire 
coupe  for  myself  and  sister,  who  is  sick." 

The  German  woman  quailed ;  she  had  possession,  but 
she  had  with  it  the  consciousness  of  underhand  dealing. 
She  looked  round  for  her  accomplice,  he  was  busy  else- 
where ;  and  she  got  out  of  the  coupe  without  a  word,  her 
daughters  following,  and  our  friend  and  her  sister  instantly 
ascended  and  took  possession  of  their  rightful  domain.  It 
is  necessary  to  remark  that  at  this  time  their  diligence,  as 
the  principal  and  regular  conveyance,  stood  first  in  the 
rank  of  a  line  of  carriages  in  the  archway  of  the  great 
yard,  and  no  other  carriage  could  proceed  until  it  moved 

on  or  in.     My  Irish  friend  S and  myself,  with,  I 

suppose,  the  natural  aptitude  of  Irishmen  for  a  quarrel, 
stood  at  each  side  of  the  coupe,  saying  to  the  occupants. 


318 


») 


GLEANUTGS  APTEB  "  GBAND  TOUB    -ISTS. 


who  seemed  agitated  and  alarmed,  "  Now  you  have  got 
your  places,  keep  them,  and  if  necessary,  we  will  support 

you." 

Presently  the  foe  appeared  in  sight  again.  The  maestro 
raging  "  terrible  as  ten  thousand  furies,  black  as  night," 
and  exclaiming,  that  they  must  give  way. 

"  Come  down,  ladies,  come  down,"  said  he,  insolently. 

"  No,"  said  I,  speaking  for  the  first  time  ;  and  pointing 
to  the  office,  I  quietly  added,  "  I  saw  what  passed  there 
last  night."  At  this  he  raged  worse  than  ever,  ordered 
the  horses  to  be  taken  from  the  diligence,  and  swore 
furiously  that  they  "  might  sit  there  if  they  pleased,  but 
that  tJiat  diligence  should  not  leave  the  yard  that  day." 
The  men,  by  his  orders,  actually  commenced  unharnessing 
the  horses.  Yet  I  saw  it  was  but  the  "tail  of  the 
shower" — the  last  effort  to  frighten  females — and  at  every 
move  I  whispered,  "  Keep  your  seats — keep  your  seats." 
At  last  the  fellow,  seeing  no  symptoms  of  irresolution  on 
the  faces  of  my  brave  countrywomen,  shook  his  head,  and 
retreated  to  his  bureau,  followed  by  the  discomfited 
Grermans.  I  had  the  curiosity  to  peep  in,  and  saw  the 
chinking  process  of  last  evening  repeated,  while  he  dis- 
gorged the  bribe  for  which  he  had  not  been  able  to  give 
value.  The  Germans  were  obliged  to  content  themselves 
in  the  cavern  of  the  rotonde.  I  had  already  placed  my 
girls  in  the  coupe  of  an  inferior  caleche,  which  brought  up 
the  rear  of  the  cavalcade,  not  the  best  of  carriages,  but  as 
good  as  we  could  have  expected  as  late  comers  in  such  a 

press  for  places.     S and  I  jumped  into  the  interior, 

and  at  last  the  cavalcade  began  to  wind  its  slow  length 
through  the  streets  of  the  quiet  town ;  but  in  the  delay 


THE  "  OPENING  OP  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLUGHEN. 


319 


occasioned  by  the  battle  of  the  coupe,  the  sun  was  high, 
and  six  had  chimed  before  we  were  clear  of  the  defiles  of 
Chiavenna. 

It  takes  about  seven  hours  to  clear  tbe  pass  of  the 
Spliighen,  and  transport  you  fairly  from  Italian  to  Swiss 
ground,  and  probably  there  is  no  part  of  Europe  where 
you  pass  in  so  short  a  time  into  so  thorough  a  contrast  as 
to  climate,  scenery,  habits,  manners,  everything  which 
constitutes  difference  between  countries  and  people.  At 
Chiavenna  we  left  dusty  roads,  traversing  vineyards  yield- 
ing the  sweet  wine  of  the  Valteline ;  we  entered  Spliighen 
village  through  avenues  of  huge  pines  standing  grimly  out 
of  the  white  snows,  which  crunched  in  disgusting  slush 
under  our  carriage- wheels  as  we  passed;  while  further 
down  towards  Tussis,  the  husbandman  was  but  sowing  the 
grain  which  the  Italian  farmer  was  already  preparing  to 
reap ;  then  the  look  of  everything  was  so  different,  and 
not  less  so  the  reality ;  in  Italy,  they  bmld  with  blocks  of 
marble,  in  the  Switzland  with  fir-logs ;  in  Italy,  no  house 
looks  as  if  a  repairing  hand  had  touched  it  for  a  hundred 
years ;  in  Switzland,  every  house  looks  as  if  the  master 
inspected  it  weekly,  to  see  that  not  a  nail  was  loose  in  the 
clumsy  fabric;  in  Italy,  all  looks  grand,  desolate,  and 
crumbling ;  in  Switzland,  aU  is  homely,  snug,  and  service- 
able. You  plainly  see  that  his  forests  are  to  the  moun- 
taineer what  his  quarries  are  to  his  classical  neighbour, 
and  the  plenty  of  timber,  and  the  lack  of  other  resource, 
induces  the  Switzer  to  execute  in  this  material  works  to 
which  it  is  nowhere  else  applied.  The  huge  timber  via- 
ducts which  cross  the  infant  Rhine  at  various  places,  are 
wonders  in  their  way,  for  solidity,  rudeness  of  construe- 


320 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


tion,  and  abundance  of  material,  whicli  proves  tliat  the 
constructers  had  it  at  prime  cost. 

Bishop  Burnet,  with  the  cool   daring  proper  to  the 
character  which  Dry  den  gives  of  him,  as 

"  A  portly  prince,  and  goodly  to  the  sight, 
Seeming  a  son  of  Anak  for  his  height, 
Like  those  whose  stature  did  to  crowns  prefer. 
Black  brow'd  and  bluff,  like  Homer's  Jupiter," 

makes  light  of  the  danger  of  what  must,  in  his  day,  have 
been  a  terrific  adventure  indeed,  namely,  the  passing  the 
Splughen  by  the  gorge  of  the  Cardhiell,  that  fearful  road 
where  avalanches  did  the  work  of  Milton's  "  Serboniau 
bog,"  and  "  engulphed  whole  armies"  of  Marshal  Mac- 
donald's  force,  when  making  the  same  descent,  in  1800 ; 
we,  however,  thanks  to  modern  engineering,  were  enabled 
to  eschew  this  horrible  gorge,  and  to  leave  it  at  our  left 
hand  as  we  passed  Compo  Dolcino,  whence,  by  a  series  of 
surprising  traverses,  the  road  climbs  the  mountain  side, 
instead  of  keeping  the  valley  of  the  Lira,  a  wild,  desolate 
Alpine  glen,  covered  with  the  huge  debris  of  the  impend- 
ing mountains,  which  come  smoking  and  thundering  down, 
as  the  avalanches  in  their  course,  or  the  quiet  but  irre- 
sistible action  of  frost,  may  loosen  and  set  them  in  motion; 
as  our  string  of  carriages  crawled  up  the  ascent,  and  we 
pedestrians  occasionally  cut  off  an  angle  by  straining  up  the 
short  way  from  one  traverse  to  another,  it  made  the  blood 
run  cold  to  think  of  the  possibility  of  one  of  these  missiles 
being  set  rolling  just  at  the  time  of  our  transit— why 
should  it  not  happen  now,  as  well  as  at  another  time  ?— and 
as  we  passed  here  and  there  crosses  set  up,  asking  prayers 
for  the  soul  of  one  or  more  victims  ''  perished  miserably," 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS      TO  SPLUGHEN.        321 


and  as  occasionally  we  heard  the  report,  and  then  the  sigh 
of  a  falling  avalanche  on  some  of  the  mountains  around  us, 
several  of  which  falls  occurred  in  the  course  of  the  morning 
as  the  sun's  warmth  came  to  act,  it  was  impossible  to 
avoid  the  speculation — why  may  not  one  of  these  take  our 
direction  as  well  as  any  other  ?  Who  can  answer  that 
why  ?— except  by  reference  to  that  Providence  in  which 
God  tells  us  He  has  "  the  hairs  of  our  heads  all  numbered," 
and  in  which  He  can  order  the  "  fall  to  the  ground"  alike 
of  "  the  avalanche"  and  of  "  the  sparrow !" 

Our  ascent,  though  slow  as  to  distance,  was  rapid  as  to 
climate,  and  we  presently  came  to  that  debatable  land 
where  winter  and  summer  still  disputed  the  ground,  lite- 
rally face  to  face,  and  inch  by  inch.  At  first  we  were 
surprised  and  interested,  as  the  road  wound  upward  through 
a  region  of  huge  rock  and  precipice,  to  remark  that  wher- 
ever a  little  spot  of  soil  presented  itself,  it  was  thickly 
carpeted  with  the  richest  variety  of  flowers,  enamelled  on 
a  ground  of  exquisite  green.  Nothing  could  be  more 
agreeable  than  these  little  natural  gardens,  blooming  in 
places  which  the  snow  had  covered  probably  a  week 
before :  in  one  spot,  not  four  yards  square,  I  counted,  with 
a  passing  glance,  not  less  than  a  dozen  difierent  wild 
flowers,  gentian,  cowslip,  and  I  know  not  how  many 
others,  but  chief  among  them  all,  that  sweet  little  catholic- 
flower — the  same  in  every  clime  and  language — the  "  For- 
get-me-not." Having  already  inflicted  on  my  readers  tha 
rhymes  with  which  I  beguiled  a  rainy  transit  over  Laga 
Maggiore,  I  now  ofier  them  the  thoughts  with  which  this 
little  flower  cheered  my  upward  way.  I  do  not  say  they 
were  finished  there,  but  the  rough  draft  was  forged  and 

T 


322 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0UB"-ISTS. 


the  idea  put  in  shape,  as  I  loitered  behind  the  carriages 
towards  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Spliighen : 

TO  A  SPBIG  OF    "  FORGET-ME-NOT,"  GATHERED  IN  THE  SPLUGHEN  PA8S, 

JUNE  6,  1851.* 

Forget  thee ! — never — till  their  hold, 

Clinging  to  Memory's  greenest  spot, 
Shall  fail  the  beautiful  and  bold ; 

Thy  name's  a  spell — "  Forget-me-not." 

Blind  with  the  glare  of  circling  snows. 
With  what  relief  my  pained  eye  caught 

Nestling,  where  sharp  the  Alp-peak  rose, 
Thy  modest  flower — " Forget-me-not" 

I  found  thee  'midst  a  whole  parterre. 

Bright  into  Nature's  carpet  wrought. 
But  none  of  all  the  bright  ones  there 

Appealed  like  thee — "  Forget-me-not^ 

Not  wild-rose  blush  of  warmer  hue, 
Nor  violet  bud  with  fragrance  fraught. 

Nor  gentian's  deep  and  dazzling  blue 

Had  charms  like  thine — "  Forget-me-not.'" 

For  near  or  far,  where'er  we  roam. 

Waked  from  the  long-sealed  depths  of  thought. 

Youth's  memories,  and  ties  of  home 
Spring  at  thy  touch — "  Forget-me-not^ 


*  May  I  be  permitted  to  felicitate  myself  on  perceiving,  in  one  of  the 
minor  poems  just  published  with  Mr.  Tennyson's  "  Maud,"  that  in  the 
very  same  place  a  little  Alpine  flower  carried  him  "  in  spirit"  homeward 
as  it  did  me  ?     He  communicates  his  incident  thus : 

"  What  more  ?  we  took  a  last  adieu. 
And  up  the  snowy  Splughen  drew ; 
But  ere  we  reached  the  highest  summit 
I  pluck'd  a  daisy,  I  gave  it  you. 

"  It  told  of  England  then  to  me, 
And  now  it  tells  of  Italy. 
O  love,  we  two  shall  go  no  longer 
To  land  of  summer  beyond  the  sea." 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLUGHEN. 


323 


Still  continuing  to  mount,  we  presently  came  on  the 
battle-field,  where  the  conflict  between  snow  and  sun 
raged  in  good  earnest.     To  carry  on  the  metaphor,  while 
one  party  kept  up  an  incessant,  steady  fire,  the  other 
offering  but  a  dogged,  passive  resistance,  and  bleeding  at 
every  pore,  was  giving  ground,  though  imperceptibly  yet 
certainly.    "VYe  were  now  in  the  exact  line  to  examine  the 
phenomena  of  winter  prolonged  into  "  leafy  June,"  and 
at  length  forced  to  yield  the  earth  to  the  rule  of  the  short 
but  rapid  summer  of  these  regions.     The  first  fact  that 
struck  us  was,  that,  at  tJie  very  edge  of  the  retreating  snow, 
out  of  the  brown  earth,  which  had  not  yet  had  time  to 
assume  its  summer  livery  of  green,  the  crocus  and  snow- 
drop were  springing  up  even  as  we  looked  on — in  fact, 
where  the  snow  had  lain  yesterday,  flowers  were  bursting 
through  to-day!     And  no  wonder,  for  they  were  every- 
where watered  with  water  actually  tepid.     We  put  our 
hands  to  the  bare  brown  soil,  and  it  felt  quite  warm  to  the 
touch.     The  melting  of  the  snow  did  not  take  place  at 
the  surface,  but  underneath,  at  the  point  of  contact  with 
the  ground  on  which  it  lay.    As  we  looked  around  us,  and 
saw  in  every  direction  the  slight  but  continuous  drain  with 
which  the  whole  body  of  snow  was  trickling  down  the 
slopes  of  the  mountain,  and  making  its  way  into  the  rills, 
rivulets,  and  streams  around,  many  of  the  phenomena  of 
these  regions  became  intelligible.    We  saw  before  us  the 
sources  of  those  floods  wlych,   in   summer,   when   other 
rivers  shrink  in  their  beds,  swell  the  rivers  which  have 
their  rise  in  the  regions  of  eternal  frost,  into  turbid  tor- 
rents.    We  saw  also  under  our  eyes  the  forcing  process, 
by  which  the  Lapland  and  Alpine  summer  ripens  in  few 

t2 


324. 


5> 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUB    -ISTS. 


days  fruits  and  flowers,  which,  in  more  temperate  regions, 
take  months  to  acquire  the  same  perfection.  I  shall  neither 
puzzle  myself  nor  my  readers  with  theories  of  latent  or 
radiated  heat,  but  simply  give  my  resulting  impression — 
that  the  whole  scene  before  me  was  one  huge  hotbed,  kept 
at  a  forcing  heat  by  the  wonderful  compensating  provi- 
sions of  nature,  and  that  the  covering  of  snow  was  somehow 
made  to  answer  the  double  purpose  of  the  glass  frame  of  a 
hot-house  and  of  a  vast  watering-pot ;  superior  in  its  distri- 
bution of  moisture  even  to  the  magnificent  system  of  arti- 
ficial irrigation  which  made  Lombardy,  as  it  lay  below  us, 
the  garden  land  of  Europe. 

Still  we  went  up— and  now  "  the  bounds  of  false  and 
true  are  past,"  and  we  are  completely  in  the  snow  world. 
Traces  of  man  or  his  works  beyond  the  road  we  travelled 
there  were  none,  save  here  and  there  the  blackened  walls 
of  a  deserted  chalet,  grim  and  miserable ;  some  of  these 
rude  dwellings  showing  terrible  tokens  of  what  might  have 
happened  if  any  had  dared  to  abide  in  them  during  winter. 
Occasionally  there  was  a  ^«Z/ chalet  standing,  the  remain- 
ing half  cut  away,  either  in  the  sweep  of  an  avalanche  or 
in  the  bombshell-whirl  of  a  passing  rock,  as  clean  as  if  a 
knife  had  sliced  it.  The  mountaineers  re-occupy  these 
dreary-looking  abodes,  while  keeping  their  cattle  on  the 
upper  pastures  during  the  short  summer  of  a  month  or 
two,  and  at  September,  or  thereabouts,  resign  them  to 
winter  again.  As  we  saw  them  half  emerging  from  their 
snow  covering,  without  a  sign  of  life  about  them,  more 
desolate  abodes  for  humanity  imagination  could  not  picture 
to  itself.  Somewhere  here  is  an  inscription  recording  that 
the  road  is  the  design  of  a  "  Chevalier  Donnegani;"  and 


TUE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLIJGHEN.       325 

I  dare  say  it  is  to  impress  the  traveller  with  a  deeper  sense 
of  the  benefits  which  he  owes  to  the  engineering  powers 
of  the  Chevalier  Donnegani  that  the  diligenza  seems  to 
stop,  as  a  matter  of  course,  at  a  point  of  the  road  whence 
a  short  path  brings  you  to  the  cascade  of  the  Medessimo 
stream ;  from  whence,  looking  dovm  over  a  wall  of  rock 
eight  hundred  feet  of  sheer  depth,  you  may  well  realise 
your  chances  of  escape  from  an  avalanche  projected  into  the 
Cardinell  pass  below.  The  cascade  at  your  side — a  tolerable 
but  not  overwhelming  volume  of  water — goes  collectedly 
over  the  ledge,  but  before  it  is  half-way  dovm  the  fall,  is 
broken  and  dissipated  into  mist ;  and  one  may  safely  assert, 
that  not  a  single  drop  ever  reaches  the  valley  by  perpen- 
dicular descent.  Could  one  preserve  brain  and  eye  with- 
out reeling,  here  would  be  the  spot  to  witness  the  fall  of 
an  avalanche  into  the  valley  underneath.  But  I  suspect 
that  nature  will  not  be  closely  looked  upon  by  human  eye 
in  these  vast  operations ;  and  that  ice  dust,  darkness,  and 
deafening  noise,  overwhelming  to  the  human  senses,  are 
too  inevitable  concomitants  of  these  events  to  permit  of 
our  realising  the  "  suave  mari  magno'''  of  the  poet.* 


*  As  we  had  adopted  this  route  professedly  to  enjoy,  if  possible,  an 
avalanche  "  in  moderation,"  I  may  as  well  honestly  confess  that  as  we 
got  nearer  to  the  possibility^  I  found  my  appetite  for  the  acttml  of  this 
enjoyment  lessening  every  moment ;  and  by  the  time  I  stood  in  the  po- 
sition where  this  phenomena  of  nature  might  present  itself  at  any  instant, 
I  felt  quite  satisfied,  not  to  say  thankful,  as  time  went  by,  and  no  ava- 
lanche came  near.  The  first  abatement  of  appetite  for  this  Alpine 
luxury  came  on  when,  about  a  mile  above  Campo  Dolcino,  I  heard  a 
sharp  report  like  a  musket-shot,  and  presently  a  kind  of  rushing  sound, 
gentle  as  t}»e  sigh  of  a  giant  in  love.  " An  avalanche"  said  the  driver, 
turning  his  head.  I  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  down  the 
slope  of  a  mountain,  apparently  about  three  miles  distant,  at  the  other 
side  of  theCardinell  pass,  I  saw  something  like  a  gigantic  stream  of  milk 


326 


)> 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  ''  GEAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


We  were  now  in  the  actual  avalanche  region,  and  ap- 
proached those  famous  galleries  through  which  the  road 
passesTor  nearly  a  mile  in  length,  and  which  are  constructed 
upon  the  principle  inculcated  by  the  homely  Scotch  pro- 
verb, which  bids  us  "  Jouk,  and  let  the  Jaw  gae  bye ;"  or 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say,  on  the  larger  principle 
now  beginning  to  be  universally  recognised  in  human 
science,  that  there  are  many  cases  in  which  the  w^ay  to 
conquer  natural  difficulties  is  not  to  oppose,  but  to  yield 
to  them.*  The  Plymouth  breakwater  fulfils  its  functions, 
not  by  presenting  a  wall  to  the  waves,  but  by  allowing 
them  to  break  on  its  shelved  side  as  on  a  natural  beach ; 
and  the  Spliighen  galleries  shun  the  conflict  with  the 
avalanche  force  by  lying  under  it,  and  allow  it  to  rush 
over  their  arched  roofs  adapted  to  the  natural  lie  of  the 


gliding  towards  a  valley.  Could  that  innocent-looking  thing  be  the 
dreaded  avalanche  ?  Yes,  it  certainly  was.  I  saw  the  mountain  left 
bare  and  brown  as  it  glided  on,  presently  a  few  dark  objects  seemed  to 
bound  after  it  down  the  steep ;  these  were  massive  rocks,  loosened  and 
leaping  into  the  valleys  below,  such  as  lay  round  us  in  the  glen  of  tlie 
Lira,  brought  down  there  by  similar  causes.  Soon  after,  the  avalanche 
reached,  I  suppose,  some  precipice,  and  went  bodily  over ;  for  a  snow- 
mist  arose,  and  for  a  while  hid  this  scene.  By  appearance  I  had  judged 
it  three  miles  distant.  I  suggested  this  to  the  driver ;  he  smiled,  and 
said  it  was  twenty !  Until  then  I  had  no  conception  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  operation  of  nature  on  which  I  looked.  I  heard  and  saw  several 
others  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  but  all  at  a  considerable  distance  ; 
and  as  the  driver  ever  piously  ejaculated  at  each  explosion,  "If  it  please 
God  and  the  Virgin  that  they  come  no  nearer,"  I  soon  began  to  acknow- 
ledge the  wish  with  an  Amen. 

*  If  I  do  not  much  mistake,  I  have  seen  this  profound  principle  ex- 
pressed in  the  motto  "  Cedendo  vincimiis"  adopted  doubtless  by  some 
sagacious  founder  of  a  family,  who  had  steered  himself  through  troublous 
and  stormy  times,  by  acting  on  the  principle  that  occasionally  a  "  loosing 
tack"  is  a  better  way  of  making  a  prosperous  voyage  than  to  sail  for  ever 
in  "  the  wind's  eye." 


THE  "opening  of  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLUGHEN.         327 


overhanging  rock,  down  which  the  avalanche  pursues  its 
thundering  way.  Thus,  no  doubt,  many  an  avalanche  has 
fallen  over  these  galleries  since  their  formation,  leaving  the 
roadway  uninjured  beneath ;  and,  as  we  passed,  we  could 
well  realise  the  possibility  of  an  avalanche  sweeping  over 
us,  doing  as  little  injury  to  life  or  limb  as  the  Fall  of 
Niagara  causes  to  those  who  stand  beneath  it  in  the  cavern 
formed  between  the  volume  of  waters  and  the  wall  of  rock 
over  which  they  tumble. 

Darkly  yawned  the  first  gallery,  fifteen  hundred  feet  in 
length,  as  our  carriages  rolled  noiselessly  into  its  recesses ; 
its  small,  oblong  windows  gave  but  a  gloaming  light,  little 
more  than  enough  to  make  darkness  visible.  The  passage 
through  was  by  no  means  clear.  We  occasionally  discerned 
great  drifts  of  snow  lying  here  and  there  imder  the  win- 
dows, which  must  have  been  blown  in  during  the  stormy 
winter,  and  in  one  or  two  places  the  drifted  snow  would 
appear  to  have  completely  choked  the  pass,  for  it  was  sho- 
velled aside  to  leave  carriage-way,  evidently  by  human 
labour.  We  proceeded  slowly  through,  and  emerged  into 
clear  sunshine.  Our  eyesight  was  scarcely  reconciled  to 
the  dazzling  glare  of  the  snow  around  us  when  we  entered 
a  second  gallery,  as  gloomy  but  not  as  long  as  the  first, 
emerging  from  which  we  passed  through  a  third;  and, 
leaving  that  behind,  the  highest  peak  of  the  Spliighen  rose 
on  our  left  hand  in  snowy  majesty,  at  an  altitude  of  about 
eight  thousand  feet,  while  beneath  it,  completely  command- 
ing the  pass  through  an  oblong  valley,  in  official  sulkiness 
stood  the  Austrian  Dogana,  with  its  appurtenances  of  vast 
post-stables,  and  an  hostelry — of  which  you  might  be  glad 
to  avail  yourself  in  a  blinding  storm,  but  would  certainly 


328 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOrR^-ISTS. 


THE  "  OPENING  OF  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLUGHEN.        329 


eschew  otherwise ;  for  not  all  the  snow  of  the  impending 
mountains  could  wash  away  its  ensemble  of  filth  and  ^roS' 
sierete.  Every  one  must  remark  that  dirt  and  slush  always 
looks  all  the  dirtier  for  the  contrast  with  "  unsunned  snow." 
And  as  this  Austrian  station  stood  with  all  the  accumu- 
lated frousy  heaps  of  winter  in  great  petrified  dunghills 
ahout  it,  I  thought  I  never  looked  on  a  less  inviting  domi- 
cile. As  for  the  residents  of  the  dirty  den,  inasmuch  as  oflfi- 
cers,  men,  and  horse-boys,  all  alike  turned  out  in  an  uniforni 
of  dark  green  spectacles,  essential  for  the  preservation  of 
sight  in  these  regions,  they  were,  I  presume,  unconscious 
of  the  filthy  appearance  which  everything  wore  to  our  un- 
defended and  unhabituated  vision. 

These  goggle-eyed  gentlemen  took  a  considerable  time 
to  viser  our  passports  (it  was  the  last  infliction  of  that 
torment  which  we  experienced ;  free  Switzerland,  Eng- 
land's continental  counterpart,  knows  nothing  of  such 
inventions),  and  we  took  the  opportunity  to  discuss  a 
slight  refection,  in  the  shape  of  some  Como  confectionary, 
excellent  in  its  kind,  which  I  had  laid  in  a  few  days 
before  against  emergency ;  and  I  never  expect  to  find  a 
more  appetising  locality  than  the  gorge  of  the  Spliighen ; 
and  never,  never  again  do  I  expect  to  enjoy  such  a  draught 
of  ice-cold  water  as  washed  down  our  repast.  This  finished, 
the  officials  satisfied,  and  a  fresh  relay  of  magnificent  horses 
to  the  carriages,  we  now  prepared  for  what  was  the  "  open- 
ing of  the  pass"  in  good  earnest,  for  hitherto  our  way, 
though  steep,  had  been  open,  and  over  the  natural  road,  but 
we  now  entered  what  might  be  called  a  lane,  through  the 
deep-lying  snow,  without  following  the  line  of  road  at  all, 
cut  by  human  labour  the  exact  breadth,  and  scarcely  the 


breadth,  of  a  carriage ;  and  as  we  advanced,  the  snow  walls 
rose  as  straight  and  perpendicular  as  the  side  of  a  house,  to 
a  height  varying  according  to  the  lie  of  the  ground  from 
fifteen  to  twenty,  and  in  some  places  even  thirty  feet ! 
Through  this  lane  our  string  of  carriages  proceeded  as 
noiselessly  as  if  the  horses  had  been  shod  with  felt.     At 
intervals  of  a  half-quarter  of  a  mile  were  men  stationed 
ready  to  shovel  away  any  impediment,  who  stared  gravely 
at  us  from  their  green  eyes  as  we  passed.     A  workman, 
en  blouse,  with  green  spectacles  on  nose,  and  shovel  on 
shoulder,  was  a  strange-looking  object ;  sometimes  a  horse, 
awltwardly  driven,  or  slipping  from  the  snowball  which 
collected  on  his  hoof,  would  gib  a  little,  and  bear  his  car- 
riage against  the  snow  wall,  an  accident  which  caused  a 
halt  until  '*  extra  luggage,"  in  the  shape  of  a  couple  of 
hundred-weight  of  snow,  was  discharged  from  the  vehicle. 
On  the  whole,  however,   we  proceeded  safely  and   cau- 
tiously, until  the  summit  level  was  mastered,  and  we  began 
to  descend  traverses  corresponding  to  those  which  we  had 
climbed  heretofore.     Here  the  rule  and  necessity  of  the 
road  obliged  us  to  call  a  solemn  halt  of  a  full  hour  in  a 
"lie   by,"    provided  for   such   an   emergency,    until  an 
ascending  train  of  carts,  carriages,  and   oxen  from  the 
Swiss  side  had  passed  us.     The  opening  of  the  pass  was 
quite  as  great  an  event  for  the  traders  of  Switzerland  as 
for  the  tourists  of  Italy ;  and  as  the  pent-up  stream  of 
commerce  and  agriculture  rolled  slowly  up-hill  southward, 
I  should  be  afraid  to  guess  the  length  of  the  train   of 
vehicles  of  all  sorts,  shapes,  and  sizes  which  passed  us  in 
solemn  procession.     Eirst   came   an  English    britschka 
(Long-acre  against   the   world),   in  which   stood  up  an 


330 


GLEJLCrnSTGS  AFTER  "  GBAKD  TOUB    -IST3. 


elegant-looking  English  girl,  staring  with  surprise  at  our 
collection  of  nondescript  conveyances ;  her  husband,  or 
lover,  or  brother,  as  the  case  might  be,  sat  with  cheroot  in 
mouth  on  the  box ;  then  came  a  rout  of  oxen  shouldering 
each  other,  and  their  huge  horns  forming  a  forest  of 
formidable-looking  weapons  (one  could  understand  how  a 
driven  herd  of  these  animals  could  formerly  have  routed 
legions  in  a  pass  like  this),  then  came  in  long  array  a 
line  of  the  low,  ungainly  Swiss  car  of  burden,  which  might 
be  called  "the  ship  of  the  Alps,"  freighted  with  a  "ge- 
neral cargo,"  among  which  we  recognised  the  complicated 
machinery  of  a  steam-engine,  distributed  on  several  cars — 
an  apparition  which  seemed  to  set  aU  the  Italians  ques- 
tioning and  inquiring  what  it  could  be,  or  mean  ?  The 
weariest  day  comes  to  an  end ;  the  cavalcade  for  Italy 
slowly  wended  its  way  upwards,  and  we  addressed  our- 
selves to  the  downward  traverses ;  a  truly  perilous  un- 
dertaking to  appearance,  but  which  we  accomplished  in 
safety,  thanks  to  a  gracious  Providence,  and  reached  our 
"pranzo,"  or  mid-day  collation,  at  Spliighen,  about  two 
o'clock,  thus  performing  in  safety  a  journey  which  wor- 
thy Mrs.  Marianne  Starke  says,  "  ought  never  to  be  at- 
tempted in  June." 

In  a  secondary  sense,  and  as  its  secondary  causes,  the 
safety  of  our  passage  was  due  to  those  noble  animals  of 
whom  I  before  spoke;  the  docility  and  sagacity  with 
which  they  performed  the  descent  of  those  zig-zag  tra- 
verses by  which  we  descended  the  mountain,  cann£)t  be 
too  much  admired.  Of  a  size  approaching  that  of  the 
London  dray-horse,  they  turned  the  sharp  comers  with  a 
practised  caution  worthy  of  the  most  managed  steed  at 


THE  "  OPEim^G  or  THE  PABS"  TO  SPLUGHEN.        331 

« 

Astley's  ;  all  the  powers  of  charioteering  would  have  been 
powerless  to  regulate  the  descent ;  but  these  fine  creatures 
might  literally  be  said  to  have  taken  the  reins  into  their 
own  control,  and  yet  not  to  abuse  their  licence.     As  if  to 
show  us  how  much  we  owed  them,  an  incident  occurred  in 
mid-descent,  which,  even  when  I  now  think  of  it  at  safe 
distance,  chills  my  blood.     We  were  in  full  career,   a 
carriage  on  each  traverse,  in  the  position,  each  relatively 
to  the  other,  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  different  flats  of  a 
ten-story  Edinburgh  house ;  we  actually  looked  down  on 
the  roof  of  the  carriage  next  below  us,  and  not  a  hundred 
yards  in  advance  of  us,  when  we  heard  a  general  exclama- 
tion, and  there  was  an  evident  attempt  to  check  the  whole 
cavalcade :  to  our  horror  we  saw  that  the  leaders  of  the 
foremost  carriage  (the  diligence  proper,  the  coupe  of  which 
had  been  the  cliamp  de  hataille  in  the  morning)  had,  in 
turning  a  traverse,  been  unable  to  check  themselves  in 
time,  had  gone  over  the  trifling  road  fence,  and,  in  danger 
of  instant  destruction,  were  standing  on  a  mere  ledge  of 
bank  impending  over  the  precipice  below,  with  the  mon- 
strous triple   carriage,   and  wheel-horses,    ready  to   be 
dra^Tcred  after  them.    For  a  moment  the  scene  was  horrible 
even  to  look  at.     Quick  as  light  every  male  of  the  party 
was  on  the  road  hastening  to  the  rescue,  which  was  a  work 
of  some  time  and  caution ;  to  secure  the  great  diligence 
from  going  over  by  its  own  gravity— to  rescue  from  their 
place  of  peril  the  noble  animals,  who,  trembling  in  every 
lunb,  and  conscious  of  their  danger,  helped  in  their  o^vn 
way  to  remove  it  by  standing  motionless—to  readjust  the 
harness — and  give  the  ponderous  vehicle  in  charge  to  the 
conducteur  instead  of  the  incapable  driver,  all  this  was  a 


332 


i» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


work  of  time.  At  length  the  cavalcade  was  once  more  in 
motion  ;  and  I  dare  say  there  was  not  a  soul  among  all  who 
witnessed  the  occurrence,  who  did  not  make  the  rest  of  the 
journey  under  a  profound  impression,  that  the  run  down 
an  Alpine  pass  was  an  achievement  far  more  easy  than 

safe. 

The  ludicrous  will  often  mingle  with  the  most  sublime 
and  critical  danger.  As  I  hurried  down,  among  others,  to 
the  rescue,  even  the  horror  I  felt  at  what  might  happen 
before  the  inmates  of  the  imperilled  diligence  could  be 
rescued,  was  lost  in  a  laugh  at  seeing  from  one  of  the 
terraces  above,  the  activity  with  which  the  "  invalid  of  the 
coupe"  imitated  her  sister  in  jumping  out  at  the  safe  side 
of  the  road ;  the  youngest,  or  most  rosy-cheeked  girl  of 
the  party,  could  not  have  done  it  better.  I  thought  of  the 
tongue-tied  boy,  who,  in  the  extremity  of  his  father's 
danger,  spoke  !— of  the  gouty  man,  who  forgot  his  crutches 
and  ran  dowTi  stairs  on  hearing  that  the  house  was  afire ! 
Here  was  a  rich,  hippish,  petted  demoiselle  to  match,  who 
that  morning  had  tottered  languishingly  towards  the  car- 
riage, but  in  the  hour  of  peril  found  her  nerves  as  firmly 
strung  for  a  jump  as  need  be.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
to  hear  that  the  shock  had  the  bracing  efiect  of  a  shower- 
bath,  and  that  she  found  herself  all  the  better  for  the  alarm 
and  exertion  afterwards. 

Arrived  at  Spliighen,  where  I  had  arranged  to  stop, 
with  a  view  to  an  expedition  to  the  Voghelberg  Glacier, 
at  the  Ehine  source,  I  experienced  the  first  contrast  be- 
tween Swiss  honesty  and  Italian  policy.  I  communicated 
this  intention  to  "  mine  host"  of  the  Spliighen  Inn,  and 
he  answered  me  in  the  very  words  of  my  crafty  Milan 


TnE  "  OPENING  or  THE  PASS"  TO  SPLUGHEN.        333 

landlord,  but  with  a  meaning  and  intention  directly  oppo- 
site :  "  Not  open  yet.  Signer."— "  It  will  be  dangerous  to 
attempt  the  glacier  until  the  snow  melts  more.  You 
might  stay  here  a  week  and  not  succeed ;  you  had  best  go 
on  to  Coire."  Here  was  disinterested  honesty  in  true 
mountain  simplicity  ;  this  man  might  easily  have  kept  me 
as  his  guest  from  day  to  day,  but  he  preferred  telling  me 
the  direct  truth  in  the  first  instance.  I  trust  mine  honest 
host  of  Spliighen  will  find  the  realisation  of  the  axiom 
that  "honesty  is  the  best  policy."     If  he  does  not,  he 

ought. 

Tor  several  reasons  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  inflict  on  my 
readers  the  slow  length  of  the  "  Via  Mala"  from  Splughen 
to  Coire,  for  the  first  and  best  reason,  that  I  do  not  myself 
retain  as  clear  and  vivid  impressions  of  it  as  I  could  wish. 
The  truth  is,  as  I  found  on  this  and  other  occasions,  there 
are  certain  routes  in  travel  which  should  no  more  be  re- 
versed than  you  should  look  at  the  wrong  side  of  a  silk- 
stuff",  or  eat  plain  meat  after  seasoned,  or  do  any  other  in- 
congruous thing ;  thus,  you  should  ever  go  "  uip  the  Ehine," 
and  take  in  its  quieter  beauties  before  you  throw  yourself 
into  the  grander  scenes  of  the  Oberland,  or  Grisons.  You 
should  come  up  the  "Via  Mala"  before  you  have  encoun- 
tered the  more  truly  Alpine  horrors  of  the  higher  pass  ; 
although  I  retain  a  general  impression  of  magnificent 
scenery  in  the  stupendous  Eheinwald  defile,  with  its  giant 
pines  and  foaming  torrents,  still  I  cannot  now  say  that  I 
could  particularise  any  one  feature  of  the  transit,  except 
perhaps  my  own  wonder  and  incredulity  in  seeing  at  a  thou- 
sand feet  below  me  what  I  was  informed  was  the  entire 
BUne,  writhing  and  boiling  between  two  walls  of  rock, 


334 


15 


GLEANIKGS  AFTEB  "  GEAKD  TOUE    -ISTS. 


which,  as  I  stood  by  the  gorge,  and  peered  into  its  depths, 
did  not  look  to  be  twenty  feet  asunder.  My  eye  was 
doubtless  deceived  by  the  gigantic  scale  of  all  around  me, 
but  this  awful  chasm  did  look  as  if  an  active  man  could 
have  jumped  across  it  without  great  exertion ;  and  yet 
here  was  a  great  river,  struggling  in  its  grasp,  reduced  to 
the  dimensions  of  a  millstream. 

After  twenty  hours  of  hard  travel,  or  at  least  of  being 
girded  and  wound  up  for  travel,  eleven  o'clock  saw  us 
fairly  housed  in  our  inn  at  Coire,  the  capital  of  the  G-ri- 
sons ;  and  I  only  fear  that,  without  the  excuse  of  locomo- 
tion, my  readers  may  feel  as  fatigued  in  reading  as  I  was 
in  making  the  journey. 


A  EIGHI  DAT. 


335 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 


A  EIGHI  DAT. 


(( 


THE    EVENING. 


>» 


The  scriptural  expression  for  a  day,  is  "  the  evening 
and  the  momiug,"  and  though  in  general  this  description 
passes  over  parenthetically  the  busiest  portion  of  our 
waking  hours,  it  may  be  affirmed  that,  in  "  Eighi"  par- 
lance, "the  evening  and  the  morning"  are  emphatically  ^^th^ 
day,"  for  the  rest  of  the  time  is  occupied  in  climbiug  the 
mountain  so  as  to  arrive  before  sunset  one  day,  as  the 
morrow  is  devoted  to  gettiug  down  again  after  the  sun  is 
fairly  risen  upon  the  earth.  As  to  any  one  being  found 
to  spend  by  choice  twelve  waking  hours  on  the  Eighi 
Culm,  we  believe  such  an  event  is  not  on  record,  even  in 
the  annals  of  English  eccentricity  or  perseverance.  To 
Eighi  tourists  the  whole  business  of  life,  whether  of  failure 
or  success,  is  compressed  into  the  two  quarter-hours  before 
and  after  sunset  and  sunrise  respectively. 

Our  Eighi  day  was  eminently  a  "sweeps,"  although 
quite  an  accidental  detour  from  our  route  of  travel,  the 
occasion  of  which  is  too  amusiog  to  be  forgotten.  It  was 
as  follows : 


336 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOrE"-ISTS. 


Some  months  in  Italy  had  given  a  certain  facility  of 
asking  and  answering  questions  in  the  language,  though 
far  be  it  for  me  to  say  I  had  achieved  or  even  attempted  a 
mastery  over  its  difficulties.  I  had  none  of  the  courage 
with  which  people  will  rush  at  Dante,  just  as  rash  ama- 
teurs in  music  insist  on  beginning  with  the  violin  !  that 
most  excruciating  of  instruments  in  the  hands  of  a  learner 
— but  I  can  truly  affirm  that  I  never  committed  the  folly 
of  venturing  within  the  circles  of  the  "  Inferno."  I  doubt 
if  to  this  day  I  comprehend  the  abominable  niceties  in  the 
application  of  the  teasing  little  verb  essere  (to  be).  Still 
I  could  make  my  way  well  enough,  hold  a  common  col- 
loquy, and,  by  degrees,  a  Mnd  of  Italian  began  to  come  so 
naturally  to  the  lips,  that  whenever  a  civil  native  attempted 
to  communicate  in  his  execrable  French,  I  always  begged 
him  to  accept  ony  vile  Italian  phrases  in  preference,  and 
got  along  very  well. 

Turning  our  heads  northward  again,  we  well  knew  that 
with  the  climate,  we  must  leave  the  soft  language  of  the 
South  behind  us,  and  we  made  preparations  for  getting 
up  our  French  for  current  use  once  more ;  but  we  never 
calculated  upon  a  great  crevasse  (to  use  Alpine  phrase) 
which  lay  between  the  two  languages ;  we  knew  that  we 
must  leave  our  Italian,  like  a  contraband  article,  at  the 
Splughen  barrier,  but  we  were  utterly  unprepared  for  tum- 
bling headlong  into  a  region  of  unknown  tongues.  This 
"  minor  misery,"  however,  actually  did  happen  to  us,  and 
for  three  days  we  lay  helpless  and  tongue-tied  in  the — 
land  of  Eomanch ! 

I  don't  know  what  the  "  learned  Bopp !"  or  other  deep 
philologists  may  make  of  Eomanch,  but  I  think  it  not  im- 


A  EIGHI  DAT.- 


-"the  evening." 


337 


possible  that  its  basis  may  be  the  lost  language  of  the  an- 
cient Etruscans,  upon  which  has  been  raised  a  superstruc- 
ture of  jargon,  to  which  every  nation  and  tongue,  from 
Dunkirk  to  Dalmatia,  has  contributed  its  quota.  To  sim- 
plify the  matter,  it  is  arranged  into  three  dialects !  so  that 
if  you  should  insanely  attempt  to  master  the  Eomanch  of 
the  "Engadine!"  and  flatter  yourself  that  you  have  suc- 
ceeded, you  have  only  to  cross  into  the  valleys  of  the 
"  Vorder"  or  "  Hinter  Ehein,"  to  find  your  labour  on  a 
new  variety  of  this  patois  all  to  begin  over  again.  A  plea- 
sant language  this,  truly,  for  weary  "  birds  of  passage"  to 
light  upon  as  a  resting-place. 

As  for  our  case,  it  was  ludicrously  pitiable.  At  the 
first  summons  of  thought,  an  Italian  expression  would  rise 
to  the  lips  ;  then,  on  recollection  that  we  were  off  Italian 
ground,  came  a  halt,  and  an  awkward  attempt  to  dress 
tlie  same  thought  in  half-forgotten  French  ;  and  when  this 
was  accomplished,  to  see  the  stolid  postilion,  waiter,  or 
chambermaid,  looking  Eomanch  !  at  us,  with  all  his  or  her 
stupid  might,  was  confusing  beyond  measure.  One  of  our 
perplexities  I  must  detail,  to  give  an  idea  of  many. 

From  Coire  we  drove  on  to  Eagatz,  as  a  pleasant  resting- 
place,  meaning  to  give  two  or  three  days  to  the  examina- 
tion of  the  baths  of  Pfaffers,  which,  with  their  mane  of 
foam,  and  tail  of  cataract,  are  indeed  a  Swiss  "  lion"  of  no 
ordinary  interest.  Instead  of  burying  ourselves  in  the 
extraordinary  hotel  at  the  baths  themselves  (a  locale  where 
even  "  Mark  Tapley"  would  have  found  merit  in  being 
"  jolly !"),  we  set  up  our  stafi'of  rest  in  the  "  Hof  Eagatz," 
at  the  entrance  of  the  gorge  of  the  Tamima,  where  for  our 
general  atmosphere  we  enjoyed  glowing  sunshine,  and  a 


z 


338 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOUIl"-ISTS. 


superb  Alpine  range  at  the  further  side  of  the  Khine  in 
the  foreground,  with  the  power  of  plunging  in  five  minutes 
into  all  the  Eadcliffean  horrors  of  the  defile  in  our  rear, 
whenever  it  suited  the  "  gloomy  habit  of  the  souL"  The 
afternoon  of  our  arrival,  unaware  of  the  distance,  and  as  I 
was  suffering  under  a  slight  lameness,  we,  my  girls  and 

myself,  vrith  S ,  who  still  kept  us  company,  took  a 

char-a-lanc  from  the  Hof  to  the  Baths.     A  safer  carriage 
(your  feet  within  step  of  the  ground)  could  not  be  made, 
and  a  steadier  horse,  kept  for  the  route,  could  not  have 
been  selected ;  still  as  we  drove  on  a  road  not  broader  than 
an  ordinary  shrubbery-walk  in  England,  \^ithout  fence  or 
parapet  of  any  kind,  and  close  over  the  torrent  of  the 
Tamima,  raging  and  thundering  in  its  channel  a  hundred 
feet  below  us,  it  was  impossible  to  avoid  some  nen'ousness ; 
man  and  horse,  habituated  to  the  place,  trotted  briskly  up. 
and  down  the  small  steeps  of  the  path,  but  I,  with  an 
imagination  realising  all  the  horrors  of  a  start  or  a  stumble, 
could  not  but  wish  them  to  go  a  little  slower.     When  I 
attempted  to  express  this,  an  Italian  "  zoppo!"  came  upper- 
most—no, that  won't  do;  then  a  French  '' reste,''  ''halte,'' 
"  arretez-vom r  still  no  effect!     At  each  sound  the  man 
looked  round  with  the  same  stolid  countenance.     All  was 
in  vain.     I  was  utterly  unable  to  make  him  comprehend 
what  I  wanted.     At  last  I  was  obliged  fairly  to  throw 
myself  back,  and  fright  was  dissipated  in  laughter,  as  I 
despairingly  exclaimed,  "  Well,  what  a  country  we  have 
got  into,  where  a  man  can't  say  *  stop,'  with  his  neck  in 
danger  of  being  broken." 

Some  Shakspearean  hero  "  plucked  the  flower  of  safety 
out  of  the  nettle  danger  ;"  out  of  this  confusion  of  tongues, 
we  collected  a  day  of  unmixed  gratification,  in  a  perfect 


A  EIGHI  DAT. — "  THE  EVENING." 


339 


ascent  and  achievement  of  ^The  Eighi," — an  adventure 
which,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  we  are  informed,  gives  the 
tourist  his  toil  for  his  reward.  At  leaving  Coire  we 
thought  it  well  to  do  as  we  had  heretofore  done  with  con- 
venience and  safety,  that  is,  despatch  our  heavier  trunks 
to  meet  us  at  Zurich,  thus  qualifying  ourselves  for  light 
carriages  and  mountain  roads  for  some  days.  On  deliver- 
ing "  nos  lagages'^  to  our  Coirean  host,  he  seemed  to  com- 
prehend perfectly  what  we  desired,  but  just  at  parting 
asked  some  question  (I  suppose  in  Romanch),  to  which  I 
first  answered  "  Si,  si,''  and  then  "  Oui,  oui,''  with  an  air 
of  perfect  intelligence,  at  the  same  time  comprehending 
what  the  man  had  said  as  little  as  if  he  had  addressed  me 
in  Parsee.  He  shortly  returned,  and  handed  me  a  "  billet," 
engaging  to  deliver  my  trunks  at  Zurich,  which  I  placed  in 
my  pocket-book,  and  departed  for  Eagatz.  ' 

We  loitered  some  days  in  this  delightful  locality,  so  as 
to  pass  our  Sunday  in  quiet ;  and  then  proceeded  by  the 
wild  lake  of  Wallenstadt  (the  "cat's  paws"  of  which  are 
proverbially  dangerous,  and  reminded  us  the  more  of  the 
whirl  blasts  of  our  native  mountains)  to  the  "  margin  of 
fair  Zurich  waters,"  down  the  full  length  of  which  we 
steamed  to  Zurich  town,  in  a  perfect  hurricane.  We  kept 
the  deck  of  the  steamer,  kept  our  heads  on  our  shoulders, 
but  it  fared  otherwise  with  head-gear — for  it  was  then  and 
there,  that  my  daughters  were  compelled  to  surrender  up 
those  convenient  though  unsightly  shades  for  the  com- 
plexion, to  which  foreigners  give  the  expressive  name  of 
"  Uglies ;"  they  had  done  "yeoman  service"  during  many 
a  long  Italian  day,  but  were  here  yielded  tributes  to  the 
power  of  the  storm — being  blown  from  their  bonnets  down 

z2 


340  GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 

the  wind  as  cleanly  as  the  kites  or  sky-scrapers  of  a  frigate 

in  a  squall. 

Arrived  at  ZuriclJ,  our  first  inquiry  was  for  our  baggage. 
«  No  effects !"  was  tlie  sum  of  tlie  answer :  we  produced 
our  voucher,  and  the  cause  of  the  delay  was  then  evident 
-that  lucky  or  unlucky  "  Oui,  oui,"  of  mine  had  been  in 
reply  to  a  question  whether  the  articles  should  go,  by  the 
fast  and  more  expensive  coach?  or  by  the  "waggon?" 
Thus  the  boxes,  though  safe,  were  but  "  coming,"  and 
would  not  arrive  "for  three  days  yet" -we  must  wait  unt.I 
Thursday !  Here  was,  a  gain  or  a  loss— lohick  ?  We  im- 
mediately  set  about  turning  it  to  the  best  account  we 

could.  .  „ 

I  must  premise  that  my  travelling  companions  were  ot 
rather  different  temperaments-one  personified  Prudence 
and  the  other  Eomance-Prudence  knew  that  our  tour  had 
a  fixed  limit,  aud  that  my  presence  at  home  was  essential 
by  a  certain  ascertained  day ;  hence  whenever  a  iitout 
from  the  laid-down  route  was  hinted  at,  in  came  Prudence 
with  her  inexorable   almanack-"  Papa,  you    have  not 
time"-"  this  is  such  a  day"-and  then  the  number  of 
days  necessary  to    reach  home    by  sheer  travel    were 
reckoned  up,  and  so  we  (Eomance  and  I  to  wit)  used 
sulkily  to  submit.    I  suspect,  indeed,  that  Prudence  waa 
suffering  under  a  slight  fit  of  that  "  maladie  du  pays"-the 
ru>.talgia,  or  pining  for  home,  to  which  the  Swiss  are  said 
to  be  subject.    As  for  Bomance!  I  do  bebeve  her  thirst 
for  travel  was  so  unsated,  that  if  I  had  told  her  on  any 
given  day  that  I  had  "  engaged  a  veturino  for  Palmyra, 
she  would  merely  have  asked,  "  At  what  hour  in  the  morn- 
ing must  I  get  up  ?" 


A  ElftHI  DAT. — "  IHE  EVENING. 


1) 


341 


Here,  however,  were  three  days  which  Eomance  and  I 
had  honestly  come  by  in  this  apropos  mischance.  Now  to 
**  Murray"  once  more.  "  I  can  see  Zuingle's  Church  and 
the  *  Zurich  Archives'  to-day.  And  what  for  to-morrow  ?" 
The  moment  we  cast  our  eyes  on  the  map  the  same  idea 
struck  us  all — even  Prudence  herself  was  not  the  last  to 
say,  "  As  we  can't  advance  towards  England,  let  us  go  to 
the  Eighi."  And  to  the  Righi  we  went.  Next  morning 
found  us  slowly  wending  our  way  over  the  Albis  range, 
which  separates  Zurich  from  Zug.  These  heights  are 
memorable  in  the  records  of  ancient  and  modern  Swiss 
warfare.  Here  it  was  that  Zuingle,  in  one  of  the  conflicts 
of  the  early  Eeformation,  acting  as  chaplain  militant  to  his 
flock,  and  refusing  to  "  call  on  the  Virgin,"  when  wounded 
and  a  prisoner,  was  smitten  as  a  "heretic  dog"  by  some 
one  who,  in  the  act,  thought  he  was  "  doing  God  service." 
Here,  in  a  later  day,  Massena  and  the  French  out- 
manoeuvred Suwarrow  and  the  Eussians  in  the  Eepublican 
wars  of  the  last  century.  As  our  eyes  traversed  the  smiling 
prospect,  it  seemed  hard  to  realise  the  fact  that  human 
hate  and  strife  had  so  often  marred  its  loveliness.  The 
rough  stone  block  monument,  however,  which  marks  the 
spot  where  Zuingle  fell,  is  a  record  not  to  be  disputed, 
pro\ing 

"  That  human  strife  had  once  been  there, 
Disfiguring  what  God  made  fair, 
And  doing  deeds  in  God's  own  name 
Which  put  humanity  to  shame." 


The  traveller  has  his  choice  of  no  less  than  three  ascents 
to  the  "Eighi Culm"  iculmen),  which  owes  its  attractions 
entirely  to  its  position  and  advantages  as  an  observatory 


342 


?5 


GLEAiaNGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


for  probably  the  finest  and  most  varied  panorama  in  all 
Switzerland.  Standing  at  a  junction-point  for  no  less 
than  three  lakes — Zug,  Lowertz,  and  Lucerne,  all  of  which 
may  be  said  to  wash  its  base — ^it  commands  on  the  one  side 
the  whole  range  of  the  Oberland  Alps,  while  on  the  other, 
the  more  level  country,  fiat  for  Switzerland,  though  well 
diversified  by  w^ood,  hill,  and  dale,  loses  itself  in  the 
shadowy  outline  of  the  Jura  mountains  and  Black  Porest 
hiUs,  at  a  distance,  it  is  said,  of  one  or  two  hundred  miles. 
Probably  other  points  of  view  may  command  as  fine  or 
finer  individual  features  of  scenery,  but,  as  a  complete  pro- 
spect, the  Kighi  is  said  to  give  the  most  magnificent  in  all 
this  land  of  grand  panoramic  beauty.  We  decided  to 
ascend  by  one  route,  and  to  diversify  our  excursion  in  de- 
scending by  another ;  accordingly,  having  driven  through 
Zug,  and  ordered  an  early  dinner  at  Arth,  we  dismissed 
our  carriage  to  Lucerne,  to  wait  us  there,  purposing  to  re- 
take it  at  breakfast-hour  next  morning. 

At  the  table  d'hote  of  Arth  there  were  but  three  guests 
beside  ourselves ;  two  of  whom,  a  young  gentleman  and 
lady,  seeming  to  be  "all  the  world  to  each  other,"  evidently 
eschewed  any  society  but  their  own,  for  they  took  their 
seats  at  the  extreme  end  of  a  long  table,  at  coffee !  The 
remaining  guest  joined  in  our  more  substantial  repast,  and 
ultimately  became  our  rather  useful  and  entertaining  com- 
panion on  the  Eighi  and  in  the  descent  next  morning  to 
Lucerne,  where  we  parted  company,  probably  never  to 
meet  again,  though  for  a  year  or  so  we  fully  expected  that 
some  day  or  other  he  would  walk  into  our  remote  resi- 
dence, since  as  to  plan  or  determined  route  in  his  travels, 
it  seemed  quite  uncertain  whither  he  might  direct  his 


cc 


A  KIGHI  DAT. — "  THE  ETENUfG. 


»» 


343 


steps  ;  the  lakes  of  Killamey  were  just  as  likely  to  be  his 
destination  as  Jerusalem,  which  he  spoke  of  visiting,  and 
when  he  left  us,  his  most  definite  idea  was  to  "  Gro  and 
look  for  a  cousin  !"  who  was  "  someiuhere  in  Eussia! — he 
believed  at  St.  Petersburg  I" 

He  was  one  of  those  young  men  with  more  money  than 
taste  or  judgment,  whom  America  annually  turns  out  to 
make  the  "  Old  World"  circuit,  just  as  England  formerly 
sent  her  sons  to  go  the  "  grand  tour"  as  a  part  of  educa- 
tion. He  told  me  that  his  father  had  dismissed  him  for  a 
*'  three-year  European  travel,"  and  that  "he  must  make 
it  out  as  well  as  he  could."  His  good-natpre  was  great ; 
knowledge  of  any  kind  meagre ;  maimers  not  so  much 
bad,  as  peculiar ;  free,  but  not  impertinent ;  very  much 
such  as  you  often  find  in  a  well-born  and  nurtured  lad  who 
has  been  learning  style  and  finish  during  a  long  cruise  in 
the  midshipman's  mess  of  a  line-of-battle  ship.  Above  all, 
his  self-reliance  and  complacency  seemed  thoroughly  Ame- 
rican— not  that  I  know  aught  of  America,  except  as  I  am 
led  to  "guess"  and  " calculate"  by  occasional  specimens 
and  general  descriptions. 

Our  acquaintance  commenced  in  this  wise.  I  found  him 
walking  about  the  salon  and  amusing  himself  in  poising 
and  selecting  one  from  a  bundle  of  "  Alpen-stocks"  stand- 
ing in  the  corner  of  the  room.  Not  knowing  his  nation, 
I  said,  in  French,  "  Apparently,  Monsieur  is  for  the 
Kighi?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  in  the  same  language ;  I  am  going  to 
walk  up  with  a  guide." 

Nothing  more  passed  at  the  time.  Shortly  after  we 
sat    down  to   dinner,  when,    on  my  remarking  to  my 


344 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GBAND  TOUIl"-ISTS. 


daughters  in  English,  that  "  we  had  often  had  watery 
soup,  but  I  never  remembered  any  so  guiltless  of  flavour 
as  this,"  to  my  surprise  our  companion  turned  to  me,  and 
in  our  common  mother  tongue  exclaimed, 

"  You  may  say  that,  sir!  regular  potage  du  lac  /'* 

(Here  a  pleasing  little  trait  of  Swiss  simplicity  broke  in. 
The  waiter  overheard  the  epithet  applied  by  our  friend, 
laughed  freely,  declared  it  was  a  "  wo^,"  and  that  he  would 
"  go  down  and  tell  the — cook !"  all  as  a  capital  joke.  "We 
begged  him  to  "  do  so  by  all  means.") 

"  Monsieur  is  an  Englishman,  then  ?"  said  I. 

"  No !"  said  he,  carelessly.  "  G-enuine  Boston,  that's 
what  I  am."  He  said  this  defiantly,  as  I  thought,  and  I 
said  no  more. 

Presently  one  of  my  girls,  having  been  curiously  observ- 
ing the  pair  who  sat  wrapped  in  each  other  at  the  further 
end  of  the  long  board,  remarked, 

"  I  am  certain  those  are  new-married  people  ;  they  seem 
to  care  neither  for  scenery,  nor  dinner,  nor  anything  but 
each  other." 

Our  Yankee  friend  stooped  forward,  took  a  long  stare 
at  the  supposed  "  nouveaux  maries^'*  and  abruptly  said, 
""Well,  Tm  not  married,  thank  God!" 

It  seemed  doubtful  whether  there  was  intended  rude- 
ness in  this  brusque  speech,  but  I  thought  it  better  to  fol- 
low it  up  jestingly.  So,  looking  at  him  half-seriously,  I 
shook  my  head,  and  said : 

"  I  never  knew  a  garrison  boast  so  loudly  that  was  not 
near  surrender ;  that  very  speech  assures  me,  that  though 
you  may  not  know  it,  you  are  on  the  brink  of  matrimony." 


(( 


A  EIOHI  DAY. — "  THE  EVENING. 


»j 


345 


He  returned  my  look,  and  seeing  a  joke  in  my  eye, 
abruptly  said : 

"  You're  not  English !" 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?"  I  replied. 

"  Because  I  never  met  an  Englishman  yet  that  would 
joke  at  first  sight." 

"  "Well,"  I  said,  "  I  am  not^  though  here  I  may  reckon 
for  one — I  am  Irish." 

"  I  knew  you  were  not,"  he  said  coolly ;  "  I  know  the 
English  all  the  world  over  hy  their  starch.^'* 

He  spoke  as  promptly  and  decidedly  as  if  he  had  been 
a  student  of  ethnological  distinctions  and  of  national 
character  for  years,  and  yet  the  boy,  for  he  was  little  more 
in  age,  was  probably  only  repeating  a  national  axiom 
learned  with  his  letters.  It  is  true  the  Englishman  is  too 
apt  to  wear  a  starched  covering  over  his  sterling  and  esti- 
mable qualities,  but  I  hardly  think  our  young  American 
friend  could  have  known  much  of  it,  except  by  "  tradition 
received  from  his  fathers."  I  don't  mean  to  put  the  two 
national  characters  in  comparison,  but  I  will  say,  for  the 
mere  compagnon  du  voyage,  Irish  affability  makes  its  way 
better  than  English  exclusiveness.  Our  friend  held  all  his 
American  Jlerte  bristling  to  match  English  hauteur,  as 
long  as  he  thought  us  "  Britishers  ;"  the  moment  he  found 
Irish  readiness  to  exchange  a  repartee,  his  national  Irus- 
quene  was  laid  aside— at  once  he  became  obliging  and 
courteous.  "We  accommodated  him  by  sending  his  port- 
manteau to  Lucerne  in  our  carriage,  and  he  offered  to  en- 
gage our  rooms  at  the  Eighi  Culm  Hotel,  where,  by 
breasting  the  steep  hill-side,  he  was  sure  to  arrive  a  con- 


346 


cc 


5» 


GLEi-KlNGS  AFTES  "  GEAND  TOUB    -ISTS. 


A  EIGHI  DAY. —    THE  EVEWHf G. 


>> 


347 


siderable  time  before  us  equestrians ;  a  very  useful  kind- 
ness we  found  it  to  be,  when,  as  on  this  occasion,  at  least 
one  hundred  and  fifty  persons  were  scrambling  for  accom- 
modation. 

Dinner  ended,  we  turned  our  backs  on  our  new  friend  to 
meet  a  few  hours  later  on  the  Eighi  top.  He  took  the 
mountain  path,  steep  and  direct  from  the  town  of  Arth  ; 
while  we  equestrians,  each  mounted  on  a  stout  horse,  and 
each  conducted  by  a  stalwart  gidde,  made  a  detour  to  the 
left,  leading  us  over  the  buried  and  through  the  re-building 
village  of  Goldau,  which  lies  in  the  valley  between  what  is 
left  of  the  Rossberg  mountain  and  the  Eighi,  up  which  we 
presently  found  ourselves  ascending  by  successive  tra- 
verses or  flights  of  stairs,  which  our  stout  steeds  clambered 
steadily  and  leisurely,  as  "  to  the  manner  born." 

The  tremendous  fall  of  the  Eossberg  mountain  about 
forty  years  ago,  the  debris  of  which  buried  a  town,  half 
filled  a  lake  !  and  flung  itself  half-way  up  the  slope  of  the 
mountain  opposite,  was  one  of  those  events  which,  well 
and  vividly  described  as  we  find  it  in  books,  had  been  one 
of  the  exciting  causes  of  my  wish  to  see  Switzerland.  The 
descriptions  of  it  in  "  Beattie's  Tour,"  or  "  Murray's  Hand- 
book," are  excellent,  and  realise  the  scene  as  far  as  any 
description  can  do  j  but  nothing  short  of  ocular  observa- 
tion could  give  full  idea  of  the  tremendous  catastrophe 
which,  to  all  within  its  influence,  must  have  been  as  "  the 
crash  of  a  world." 

The  Eossberg  seems,  as  does  its  gigantic  neighbour  the 
Eighi,  to  be  mainly  composed  of  that  conglomerate  rock 
called  by  many  local  names  —  '^conglomerate,"  "nagel- 
flue" — with  us  "  plum-pudding"  stone.      In  the  former 


mountain,  beds  of  this  rock  form  its  slope ;  they  rise  from 
the  valley  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees,  and  pre- 
sent a  blufi"  face  or  end  to  the  lake  and  village  of  Zug ; 
they  are  of  great  thickness,  and  seem  to  rest  upon  seams 
of  clay,  "  hinc  illm  lachrymcey  It  was  the  moistening  of 
some  of  these  seams  of  clay  in  a  season  of  long-continued 
rain,  which  may  be  said  to  have  converted  them  into  a  well- 
greased  run  or  slide  for  the  superincumbent  rock,  which, 
from  the  accounts  collected  after  the  disaster,  would  ap- 
pear to  have  been  slowly  slipping  down  on  the  valley  for 
some  days,  until  at  length  "  getting  way,"  and  the  base 
yielding,  the  whole  mass,  forming  a  section  of  the  moun- 
tain equal  in  area  to  the  city  ofFaris  I  burst  in  huge  frag- 
ments and  rushed  on  the  devoted  valley  beneath,  and  not 
only  overwhelmed  the  village,  but  actually  sent  its  frag- 
ments half-way  up  the  ascent  of  the  Eighi  opposite !  It  is 
only  this  last  fact  which  now  remains  to  give  any  idea  of 
the  tremendous  forces  engaged  in  the  event. 

As  we  rode  from  Goldau  up  the  Eighi  side,  and  our 
guides  showed  us  here  and  there  enormous  masses  of  con- 
glomerate, many  of  them  as  large  as  a  church,  and  then 
pointing  to  the  fractured  Eossberg,  explained  that  they 
had  come  from  thence  in  the  slip,  we  could  not  help 
shuddering  at  the  idea  that  the  danger  ot  a  similar  cala- 
mity still  exists,  and  that  another  rainy  season  may  detach 
and  scatter  another  slice,  in  a  shower  of  conglomerate 
rock,  sending  death  and  ruin  upon  all  within  the  sphere  of 
its  action.  And  yet  there  was  the  toll-taker  at  Goldau, 
"  sitting  at  the  receipt  of  custom,"  smoking  and  drinking 
"  schnaps"  as  composedly  as  if  there  was  not  a  buried 
village  under  his  feet  and  a  fractured  mountain  over  his 


348 


GLEAmNGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


head.  The  reckless  indifference  with  which  human  nature 
seems  to  resist  all  warnings  as  to  possible  danger  is  won- 
derful. There,  for  example,  is  Torre  del  Greco,  under 
Vesuvius,  six  times  di'owned  in  lava,  seven  times  built 
again.  The  present  railroad  to  Castelamare  carries  you 
above  the  level  of  the  flat  house-tops,  and  you  see  old 
women  dozing,  young  women  drying  com,  and  children 
basking  and  playing  in  the  sun,  on  the  roofs  of  dwellings 
built  under  the  shadow  of  the  volcano,  of  the  lava  rock 
which  flowed  in  fiery  torrents  from  it,  and  covered  with  a 
compost  formed  of  the  ashes  of  former  conflagrations.  In 
our  want  of  familiarity  with  these  phenomena  we  wonder 
at  their  recklessness  ;  but  they  l—what  do  they  do  ?  Why 
they  realise  the  reflection  of  the  poet — 

"  Unconscious  of  their  fate 
The  little  victims  play." 

But  we  are  making  slow  way  up  the  Eighi  side.  How  can 
it  be  otherwise,  when  it  is  literally  what  I  have  before 
called  it — "  a  getting  up-stairs  ?"  When  we  came  to  the 
real  steep  of  the  ascent,  the  path  or  road  consisted  actually 
of  trunks  of  trees  placed  at  intervals,  and  transversely,  to 
serve  as  retaining  walls  to  the  loose  gravel  soil  of  the 
mountain.  But  for  this  precaution,  the  road,  pour  ainsi 
dire,  would  in  the  first  shower  of  rain  become  a  mountain 
gully,  impassable  to  any  quadruped.  As  matters  stood, 
our  trained  horses  climbed  step  by  step,  and  seemed  almost 
to  Jiooh  their  hoofs  over  the  transverse  timbers. 

Tor  us  to  attempt  any  guidance  would  have  been  out  of 
the  question.  All  our  care  was  fully  employed  in  keeping 
our  seats  and  guarding  against  a  fall  crupper- wise.    More- 


A  EIGHI  DAT. — "  THE  ETENING. 


«) 


349 


over,  the  care  of  the  horses  was  the  official  business  of  the 
guides  who  conducted  us ;  had  we  interfered,  we  should 
probably  have  only  done  mischief,  and  (though  a  rule 
sometimes  to  be  broken  when  the  salus  populi  becomes 
the  suprema  lex)  in  travelling  I  am  generally  for  leaving 
each  "  department"  to  discharge  its  own  duties,  relying 
on  ihQ  prestige  of  that  universal  departmental  bugbear — 
responsibility.*  Official  men  from  Downing- street  to  a 
Dogana  are  proverbial  for  becoming  worse  and  slower  in 
their  proceedings  the  moment  you  attempt  to  hurry  or  put 
them  out  of  their  routine  course. 

At  about  one-third  of  the  way  up  we  halted  at  a  "  rest- 
haus,"  to  give  our  beasts  provender  and  their  conductors 
"  schnaps."  They  were  hearty,  frank  young  fellows,  and 
did  not  abuse  the  order  I  gave  for  their  refreshment.  In 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  began  the  ascent  again, 
and  the  only  eff'ect  of  this  little  indulgence  showed  itself 
in  their  bringing  on  the  cattle  somewhat  more  briskly, 
and  presently,  as  we  met  a  large  herd  of  Alpine  cattle 
descending  to  the  "  haus,"  two  of  them  broke  into  song, 
rousing  the  mountain  echoes  by  a  "  Eanz-dez-Vaches." 
Here  I  perceived,  for  the  first  time,  the  origin  and  mean- 
ing of  this  Alpine  melody.  It  would  seem  that  the  cattle 
of  each  commune  graze  together  in  the  upland  pastures, 
and  that  as  they  come  homewards  the  herd  of  each  pro- 
prietor follow  with  unerring  sagacity  its  own  leader  and 
bell.     These  bells,  made  of  thin  copper  of  a  large  size, 


*  When  this  was  written,  we  had  not  had  our  bitter  national  expe- 
rience of  what  a  sorry  jade  "  departmental  responsibility"  was  to  prove, 
when  burdened  with  the  duty  of  preparation  for  our  Crimean  winter 
campaign. 


350 


jj 


GLEANIIfGS  AFTEE  "  GfiAKD  TOUB    -ISTS. 


give  out  a  weak  musical  note,  with  a  slight  variety  in 
tone,  and  are  suspended  round  the  neck  of  generally  the 
finest  cow  in  each  herd,  who  marches  proudly  at  the  head 
of  its  attendant  companions,  and  the  "  Eanz-des-Yaches" 
(literally  meaning,  the  ranking  or  ranging  of  the  cows) 
is  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  imitation  of  the  com- 
bined tones  which  these  various  bells  give  out,  in  that 
simple  and  not  unpleasing  harmony  which  is  said  to  act 
with  an  irresistible  attraction  on  the  feelings  of  the  Swiss 
peasant  when  heard  at  a  distance  from  his  native  valleys. 
We  now  heard,  in  primitive  perfection,  the  original 
melody  from  the  bells  of  the  descending  cattle,  and  the 
excellent  imitation  from  the  manly  voices  of  our  guides, 
which,  not  having  then  heard  the  unequalled  performance 
of  Mr.  Pringle  (the  flageolet  friend  whom  Mr.  Albert 
Smith  introduces  at  his  soirees),  I  considered  the  best  I 
had  ever  heard. 

We  were  now  entering  what  is  called  the  middle  region 
of  the  mountain,  where  the  deciduous  trees  of  the  woods 
through  which  we  had  been  hitherto  travelling  began  to 
give  place  to  those  enormous  firs  indigenous  to,  and 
characteristic  of,  the  higher  Alpine  regions.  These  giant 
trees  stood  further  apart  than  the  timber  of  the  woodland 
below  ;  deep  drifts  of  snow  lay  here  and  there  (though  it 
was  mid- June)  in  the  sheltered  hollows,  and  occasionally 
stood  forth  a  huge,  shattered,  and  bleaching  trunk,  flinging 
its  bare  arms,  as  if  in  desperation,  towards  heaven,  and 
realising  the  description  of 

"  Those  blasted  pines,  wrecks  of  a  single  "winter," 

BO  graphically  used  by  Byron  to  symbolise  his  soul-blighted 
hero,  '*  Manfred."     Through  this  sombre  avenue,  dotted 


A  EIGHI  DAY. "  THE  EVEISTNG." 


351 


at  intervals  by  "  stations  of  penance,"  we  approached  the 
dreary  hamlet,  composed  of  homely  inns  and  an  humble 
convent,  where  three  or  four  Capuchins  serve  the  church 
of  "  Notre  Dame  des  Neiges,"  or  "  Our  Lady  of  the 
Snow,"  as  she  may  well  be  called,  inasmuch  as  the  whole 
region  is  wrapped  in  a  snow-mantle  for  at  least  nine  months 
of  the  twelve. 

The  difficulties  of  the  ascent  were  now  overcome,  and  a 
half  hour's  easy  riding  over  upland  levels  brought  us  to 
the  point  of  the  "  Staffel-haus,"  where  the  traveller,  care- 
fully enjoined  not  to  look  round  until  the  proper  minute, 
obtains  a  kind  of  preparatory  glimpse  of  a  section  of  that 
full  Righi  diorama  which  awaits  him  at  the  *'  Culm,"  after 
riding  and  rising  gradually  for  about  another  half  hour. 

We  had  timed  our  journey  admirably.  We  were  dis- 
mounted, and  pacing  the  smooth  turf  of  the  Culm  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  sunset,  where  we  found  as- 
sembled more  than  a  hundred  individuals  of  all  nations, 
ages,  sexes,  tongues,  and  temperaments ;  all  waiting 
eagerly  imtil  the  sun  should  make  his  descent  from  behind 
a  thick  bank  of  cloud  into  a  small  band  of  sky,  "  darkly, 
deeply,  beautifiilly  blue,"  which  joined  the  horizon,  and 
which  guides,  waiters,  and  chambermaids,  all  the  cogno- 
scenti learned  in  Eighi  views,  assured  ns  gave  every 
promise  of  a  sunset  specially  glowing  and  beautiful. 
Among  the  crowd  we  were  at  once  recognised  and  hailed 
by  our  American  friend,  with  the  intelligence  that  he  had 
secured  us  apartments, — a  favour  the  importance  of  which 
we  understood  better  when  we  saw  more  than  one  party, 
instead  of  turning  in  like  ourselves,  after  the  sunset-^ory 
was  gone  by,  to  a  warm  saloon  and  excellent  ready  supper. 


;,' 


'  i 


352 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GBAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


sulkily  descending  to  seek  sucli  accommodations  as  the 
"  Staffel-haus"  inn  might  afford  them,  with  the  prospect 
of  a  shivering  re-ascent  for  the  sun's  levee  to-morrow,  at 
that  very  coldest  and  darkest  hour  of  all  the  twenty-four, 
which  the  period  immediately  before  the  dawn  is  known 
to  be. 

We  all  walked  to  and  fro,  counting  the  minutes  until 
the  sun  should  make  his  appearance.  Every  eye  was  fixed 
on  the  distant  horizon,  and  none  were  taking  note  of  what 
was  happening  at  our  feet,  when  suddenly,  from  the  little 
lake  of  Zug  which  washed  the  steep  Eighi  base,  there 
exhaled  a  thin,  gauzy  vapour,  extracted  by  the  glowing 
heats  of  the  day  just  closing — this  wreathed  and  curled 
gently  up  the  sides  of  the  mountain,  until,  in  an  instant, 
before  we  had  time  to  think,  the  whole  expectant  assem- 
blage on  the  Eighi  top  were  enveloped  in  a  cold  fog,  so 
dense  as  to  render  it  impossible  to  discern  any  object  even 
at  the  distance  of  a  few  yards. 

The  polyglot  exclamations  of  vexation  and  dismay  which 
burst  from  the  parties  thus  helplessly  shrouded  in  "  cold 
obstruction,"  showed  how  highly  their  expectations  of  the 
coming  sunset-glory  had  been  wrought,  and  how  deeply 
the  disappointment  was  felt.  As  the  wetting  vapour  floated 
round  and  by  us,  we  all  sadly  reflected  that  though  it  was 
but  a  passing  mist  and  might  soon  dissipate,  yet  minutes 
were  passing  too,  and  it  w^ould  probably  clear  away  "just 
in  time  to  be  too  late."  For  myself,  I  had  but  time  to 
utter  to  my  daughters  an  Italian  expression,  which  may  fit 
each  and  every  disappointment,  serious  or  trifling — "  Cosi 
e  la  vita  " — when  we  had  another  illustration  of  the 
"  changes  and  chances  of  this  uncertain  world,"  in  a  with- 


iC 


A  EIGHI  DAT. "  THE  EVENING. 


>> 


353 


drawal  of  our  mist- veil,  with  a  suddenness  and  magical  effect 
which  might  almost  lead  us  to  think  that  the  whole  had  been 
a  device  expressly  "got  up"  for  our  surprise  and  enjoyment. 
Not  all  the  seeming  magic  which  entrances  the  wondering 
schoolboy  in  the  glories  of  his  Christmas  pantomime  could 
equal  our  delight  and  surprise  in  the  scene  which  presently 
opened  on  our  view.  The  mist  was  obviously  getting  less 
dense,  and  occasionally  a  few  objects  in  the  immense  am- 
phitheatre below  us  began  to  loom  through  the  haze — 
such  as,  a  church  spire,  a  tree-crowned  hill,  or  picturesque 
hamlet — and  it  was  very  evident  that  the  whole  exhalation 
would  soon  pass  away  completely.  By  this  time,  also, 
the  glorious  sun  had  disengaged  himself  from  the  cloud- 
bank  which  had  hidden  him  so  long,  and  began  to  tinge 
the  emerging  objects  with  his  golden  light.  Every  second 
was  now  bringing  with  it  some  new  and  surprising  effect. 
The  mist,  still  sweeping  along  in  most  gauzy  fineness,  con- 
cealed nothing,  but  gave  to  every  object  an  indescribable 
character  of  ethereal  lightness  and  grace.  It  was,  in  fact, 
a  vast  "  dissolving  view"  of  real  life,  shown  on  a  scale,  and 
executed  with  a  perfection  of  beauty,  no  human  artist 
could  have  achieved.  At  first  every  one  held  the  breath, 
to  drink  in  the  passing  and  changing  beauty  of  the  scene ; 
then  exclamations  of  delight  burst  from  those  but  a 
moment  ago  so  desponding  and  murmuring.  The  whole 
militia  of  the  Eighi  Culm  Hotel— albeit  well  used  to  sun- 
set splendours — turned  out  to  gaze  on  this  wondrous 
spectacle ;  and  I  heard  the  master  of  the  hotel  himself 
declare  that,  in  twenty  years,  he  had  never  before  wit- 
nessed such  a  marvellous  combination  of  light  and  shade 
at  such  a  critical  moment.    But,  while  we  gaze  it  passes — 

2a 


i? 


:i 


J  I 


354 


GLEANINGS  AJFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


the  sun  has  touched  the  horizon's  verge,  and  is  descending 
below  it  with  that  seeming  acceleration  of  motion  so  well 
known  to  observers  of  nature— a  moment  more !  "  he  sinks ! 
and  all  is  grey" — the  long  Eighi  horn  sounds  its  plaintive 
and  simple  farewell  to  day — we  turn  into  the  hotel  in 
search  of  creature-comforts  for  the  night,  and  I  repeat 
once  again,  "  Cosi  e  la  vita.''  Yes!  in  its  joys  and  its 
sorrows — its  sudden  depressions  and  as  sudden  upliftings 
—"  such  is  life !" 


A  EIGHI  DAT. — "THE  MOENING." 


355 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  EIGHI  DAT. 


"the    morning." 


I  CAN  truly  affirm  that  my  last  chapter  was  written 
before  Mr.  Albert  Smith  had  freshened  my  recollections, 
and  made  my  sides  ache  with  laughter,  by  his  lively  enact- 
ment* of  the  scene  at  the  "long  Eighi  supper- table,"  and 
of  his  own  after  sleepless  night,  under  the  cross-fire  of 
interrogatories  carried  on  through  the  chip  partitions  of 
the  Eighi  Culm  Hotel,  while  the  "  tin  fiddle"  of  his  omni- 
present vagabond  friend  in  the  attics,  sounded  the  charge 
to  the  air  of  "  Le  Moulin  du  Village." 

I  don't  think  I  met  Mr.  Smith  at  the  Eighi  Culm  Hotel 
in  1851.  If  I  did,  I  take  shame  to  myself  for  my  stupidity 
in  beiog  unaware  of  the  presence  of  a  companion  so  intelli- 

*  Some  time  or  other,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Albert  Smith's  "  Thousand-and- 
One"  nights  will  have  an  end,  and  a  time  will  come  when  readers  may- 
ask  in  wonder  "  which  of  the  Smiths  .*"  is  here  meant.  For  the  information, 
not  of  the  present,  but  of  the  future  generation,  I  "  make  a  note"  that  it 
is  the  adventurous  explorer  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  the  entertaining  raconteur 
of  his  adventure,  who,  night  after  night,  receives  his  thronging  visitors 
at  the  Egyptian  Hall,  Piccadilly,  that  is  here  alluded  to. 

2a2 


I 


356 


»> 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOTJB    -ISTS. 


A  EIGHI  DAT.- 


-"  THE  MOENING." 


357 


gent  and  agreeable.  Yet  I  should  be  afraid  to  swear  I  did 
not  J  because  he  brought  the  whole  scene,  of  what  maybe  an 
any  day,  or  every  day,  "  reunion;'  so  vividly  before  me,  that 
I  begin  to  think  "gushing  Augusta  Effingham"  must  have 
been  my  vis-a-vis  at  table ;  and  I  feel  almost  convinced 
that "  undecided  Mr.  Parker"  sat  within  two  or  three  of  me. 
There  is  but  one  part  of  Mr.  Smith's  Eighi  reminiscences 
to  which  I  must  return  a  complete  "  non  mi  ricordo''  Of 
any  nocturnal  disturbances  I  avow  myself  utterly  oblivious, 
for  just  as  I  had  composed  myself  for  a  most  intense  and 
abstracted  moonlight  meditation,  having  my  eyes  fixed  on 
a  snow  patch  which  lay  crisping  in  a  hoar-frost,  even  in 
"  leafy  June,"  before  the  window,  my  abstraction  became 
somehow  or  other  more  complete  than  I  intended.  Sleep 
surprised  me,  as  it  will  the  most  intense  thinker,  and  so  I 
lay  insensible  to  "  Jack's"  inquiry  from  No.  18  whether 
"Harry  was  asleep  in  34?"— whether  he  "had  Keller's 
map?"— and  to  all  and  sundry  the  other  interlocutory  an- 
noyances which  interfered  with  Mr.  Albert  Smith's  enjoy- 
ment of  "the  balmy,"  save  and  except  the  summons  from  the 
Alp  horn  in  the  grey  morning,  and,  as  Tony  Lumphin  says, 
"I'll  bear  witness  to  tlat:'  It  did  sound  through  and 
about  the  house,  in  a  fashion  which  left  it  scarce  a  matter 
of  choice  to  get  up ;  for  to  sleep,  or  lie  still,  under  the 
infliction,  was  an  utter  impossibility.  The  Alp  horn  re- 
duces the  turn-out  at  morning  muster  to  a  "  matter  of 

course." 

A  tariff  posted  in  every  bedroom  proclaims  a  prohibitory 
duty  on  the  conversion  of  blankets  or  counterpanes  into 
morning  wrappers!  This  is  sometimes  understood  as  a 
hint  to  take  the  comfort  and  pay  the  penalty,  but  on  the 
morning  of  the  10th  of  June,  1851,  we  saw  no  instance  of 


"  Cloths  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay — 
Blankets  by  night,  made  mantles  of  by  day." 

My  girls  and  I  had  come  adequately  provided  with  sundry 
appliances,  to  meet  that  biting  blast  which  swept  along, 
heralding  the  sun's  approach,  and  preparing  us  for  the 
realising  that  magical  artistic  effect  of  the  "Eospigliosi 
Aurora,"  of  which  wonderful  fresco  the  leading  idea  seems 
to  be,  to  express  the  rapidity  with  which  the  god  of  day 
sweeps  on  to  his  rising, 

"  And  leaves  the  breezes  of  the  morn  behmd." 

We  all  three  took  the  field,  in  suitable  hirsute  garments 
of  endurance,  but  others  emerged  from  the  hotel  in  most 
grotesque  variety  of  habiliment ;  among  the  rest,  there 
remains  indelibly  fixed  on  memory  (and  rises  before 
"  the  mind's  eye"  as  I  write)  one  figure,  which  even  in  the 
glowing  sunset  of  the  last  evening,  I  had  admired  as  an 
exemplification  of  the  triumph  of— soul  over  substance  !— 
of  mind  making  light  of  physical  impediments  which  would 
have  weighed  down,  and  detained  in  the  lower  world,  any 
one  possessed  by  the  ordinary  desire  for  the  grand  and 
picturesque ;  in  plain  prose,  this  was  a  German  lady,  of 
that  square,  substantial  build  which  renders  the  term 
"  sylphid,"  as  applied  to  dames  of  Teutonic  race,  a  mere 
phrase  of  form,  if  not  of  ridicule.  By  what  route,  or  by 
what  mode  of  conveyance  the  lady  in  question  attained 
the  Eighi  top,  quite  passes  my  comprehension.  If  carried 
by  ''porteurs,"  they  must  have  been  of  "the  race  of  the 
Anakim ;"  if  borne  by  a  horse,  the  animal  must  have  had 
the  preternatural  qualities  of  the  fabled  hippogriff!  There 
however  she  stood  "  in  the  flesh,"  her  age  sixty,  if  a  day ; 


i 


858 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


her  weight  twenty  stone!  if  a  pound;  and  yet  full  of 
activity  to  explore,  and  enthusiasm  to  admire,  everything ! 
In  the  nipping  morning  air  she  was  by  no  means  the  last 
to  emerge  from  the  hotel,  presenting  in  the  twilight  the 
most  extraordinary  appearance  conceivable — ^her  square, 
solid  person,  wrapped  in  a  grey  horseman's  coat,  not  worn 
cloak- wise,  but  put  on  after  manly  fashion !  her  round, 
firm  face,  hedged  about  with  papillottes,  her  bonnet  sur- 
mounting her  unremoved  night  head-gear!  I  am  sure 
she  divided  for  some  moments  the  attention  of  the  whole 
company  with  the  glorious  panorama  emerging  into  \dew 
around  us ;  our  American  friend,  among  the  rest,  greeted 
her  appearance  with  a  long  whistle!  and  after  a  steady 
stare  with  arms  a-kimbo,  concluded  his  survey  with  the 
following  suggestion,  evincing  at  once  his  appreciation  of 
the  object  before  him,  and  his  lively  interest  in  the  pheno- 
mena of  nature — "  By  Jove  !  ichat  an  avalanche  she  would 
maJce!^^ 

While  the  hotel  thus  yielded  up  its  inmates,  and  "  the 
Staffel-haus"  below  sent  up  its  contingent  of  shivering 
enthusiasts  to  the  sun's  levee,  the  day-dawn  was  rapidly 
coming  up  from  eastwards,  in  the  direction  of  the  Eoss- 
berg,  which  seemed  to  sink  into  still  deeper  shadow  as  the 
snow-peaks  above  and  behind  it  began  to  blush  through 
the  grey  light  of  morning. 

Pages  might  be  filled  with  descriptions  of  the  Eighi 
sunrise,  and  yet  tell  nothing.  "We  might  detail  with 
guide-book  accuracy  the  names  of  the  giant  mountains 
which  began  to  show  in  the  distance  of  the  Oberland  and 
the  Grisons,  as  the  sun  touches  each  successively,  and 
seems  to  call  it  into  being  out  of  the  chaos  of  darkness  ; 
but  when  all  is  done,  what  do  such  descriptions  convey  ? 


A  BIGHI  DAT. — "  THE  MOENING." 


359 


Nothing !  Names,  and  no  more.  There  is  no  travelled 
impertinence  in  the  assertion,  that  when  you  can  under- 
stand a  description  of  the  Eighi  panorama  at  sunrise,  you 
do  not  want  it ;  pictures  will  be  superfluous,  for  you  must 
have  seen  the  original  to  form  any  conception  of  that 
snowy  ocean,  which  loses  itself  in  distance  to  the  south 
and  westward,  in  which  every  billow  is  a  separate  monn. 
tain,  while  Mont  Blanc,  "  The  Monarch"  of  all,  shows  only 
like  a  "  crowning  tenth  wave"  in  the  vastness  of  that  un- 
defined expanse. 

Upon  one  grace  of  the  scene  we  can  dwell,  if  only  to 
confess  the  impossibility  of  fixing  it  in  description — I 
mean  that  exquisite  and  ever-changing  blush  with  which 
the  cold  virgin  purity  of  the  snow  acknowledges  the 
approaches  of  the  day-god.  A  student  of  the  laws  of 
colour  would,  I  have  no  doubt,  find  interest  and  informa- 
tion in  observing  the  process  by  which  the  bluish  grey  of 
twilight  is  first  transmuted  into  a  delicate  purple,  gradually 
warming  into  a  rosy,  and  then  a  still  warmer  glow,  as  the 
power  of  the  yet  unseen  sunbeam  comes  into  fuller  opera- 
tion upon  the  snow's  unsullied  whiteness  ;  for  myself,  not 
being  equal  to  a  scientific,  I  must  be  content  with  a 
poetico-critical  deduction  from  it,  in  reference  to  one  of 
those  enigmatical  beauties  which  Mr.  Tennyson  has  been 
pleased  to  give  his  readers,  in  order  that  they  may 
exercise  ingenuity,  or,  as  the  case  may  be,  exhibit  ab- 
surdity in  conjecturing  their  meaning. 

Twice  in  the  course  of  that  remarkable  composition, 
entitled  a  "Vision  of  Sin,"  which  concludes  his  revised 
volume  of  Lyrics,  the  laureate  has  introduced  these  lines : 

"  To  the  horizon's  verge  withdrawn, 
God  made  himself  an  awfal  rose  of  dawn." 


360 


GLEANINGS  AITEB  "  GBAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


A  BIGHI  DAY. — *'  THE  MOENING. 


»> 


361 


Sundry  "notes  and  queries"  have  been  put  as  to  the 
meaning  of  this  mysterious  last  line.  More  than  one 
answer  has  been  hazarded,  but  the  oracular  poet  himself 
has  not  condescended  to  define  his  own  meaning,  and 
therefore  leaves  it  open  to  one  conjecture  more;  the 
meaning  intended,  I  conceive  to  be,  that  through  all  the 
phases  and  madness  of  reckless  sin,  the  sinner  can  never 
get  rid  of  an  overshadowing  sense  of  an  awful  God,  who 
has  appointed  a  day  "wherein  to  judge  the  world  in 
righteousness;"  that  this  sense  of  coming  judgment  may 
be  dim  and  faint,  often  but  a  hovering  impression  on  the 
horizon  of  consciousness,  but  yet  as  inevitable  a  token  of 
future  account  as  the  blush  before  dawn  of  the  coming  day. 

While  we  stood  on  the  Kighi  Culm,  in  high- wrought 
expectation  of  the  sun's  uprising,  unable  to  calculate  at 
what  moment  he  would  actually  emerge,  and  yet  con- 
tinually warned  that  he  was  coming  near  and  yet  nearer 
by  the  increased  redness  of  the  eastern  sky,  causing  a  kind 
of  awful  hushed  anxiety  for  the  moment — when  we  could 
say  that  the  sun  was  "  risen  upon  the  earth"  and  that  we 
stood  in  his  full  light,  these  words  of  Tennyson's  occurred 
to  me  as  best  calculated  to  describe  ray  sensations,  and  as 
embodying  a  conception  from  a  natural  image,  which,  if 
it  was  not  in  the  mind  of  the  author  when  writing  them, 
might,  if  he  had  ever  waited  such  a  moment  as  this,  well 
be  so.  One  would  like  to  know  the  value  of  such  a  conjec- 
ture, if  it  would  be  possible  to  induce  this  rather  transcen- 
dental poet  to  condescend  to  the  infirmities  of  admiring 
readers  and  perplexed  commentators. 

Nearer,  and  yet  nearer,  and  at  last  the  day-god  sur- 
mounts the  Alpine  heights  and  gives  the  signal  to  our 
lower  world  to  "go  forth"  to  its  varied  labours,  pleasures, 


joys,  and  sorrows  "  until  the  evening."  What  ideas  of 
force  and  power  are  conveyed  by  the  ascending  luminary 
driving  up,  as  it  were,  the  clear  blue  steep  of  the  Em- 
pyrean, scattering  the  mists  and  vapours,  which  seem 
to  be  annihilated  by  his  very  presence.  No  one  can  have 
ever  stood  and  contemplated  the  rush  of  a  steam-train 
carrying  its  hundred  tons  at  the  rate  of  forty  miles  an 
hour  without  receiving  the  impression  of  irresistible  force 
in  action,  and  of  human  nothingness  in  comparison  to  the 
giant  power  it  has  evoked.  But  the  scientific  embodiment 
of  power  sinks  into  nothingness,  and  becomes  "  of  the 
earth  and  earthy,"  when  compared  with  the  glorious, 
quiet,  natural  strength  in  which  the  "  great  light  made  to 
rule  the  day"  rolls  on  his  unwearied  course,  fulfilling  from 
the  first  morning  of  creation  the  simple  fiat,  "  Let  there  be 
light,"  and  with  light,  ministering  all  those  appHances  of 
living  enjoyment  without  which  being,  if  it  were  indeed 
a  possibility,  would  be  a  dreary  blank  instead  of  an  en- 
dowment from  God  "  given  to  his  intelligent  creation  richly 

to  enjoy." 

The  sea  of  mountains,  which  spreads  itself  to  the  south 
and  east,  as  "  Alp  o'er  Alp  ascends,"  baffles  all  description. 
We  heard  on  every  side  names  of  interest—"  Voila  Mont 
Blancr  ''Tung  FrauT  "  Gliasnicir  and  so  on— but  to 
identify  these  with  any  of  the  giant  peaks  before  us  was 
impossible.  "  Mont  Filatre;'  as  it  stood  out  in  gloom  and 
nearness,  though  but  comparatively  a  pigmy,  was  a  more 
impressive  object  than  those  huge  real  mountains  looming 
in  the  distant  horizon.  And  on  the  Kighi  top  one  is 
obliged  to  let  imagination  loose  in  unlimited  conjecture 
rather  than  attempt  to  realise  anything  like  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  Oberland  wonders  spread  out  before  him. 


I 


362 


GLEAinifOS  ATTER  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


.■rr,     '» 


363 


There  is  one  point  of  the  panorama,  within  what  is 
called  "the  middle  distance,'*  on  which  the  spectator  gazes 
with  an  interest  to  which  the  mere  sense  of  seeing  con- 
tributes little.  As  the  eye  ranges  over  the  lake  of  Lo- 
wertz,  the  position  of  the  little  town  of  Schwytz  may 
be  seen,  or  guessed  at,  marked  as  its  site  is  by  splintered 
peaks,  called  "  The  Mitres  ;'*  and  near  it  one  loves  to  fancy 
that  the  meadow  of"  Griitli"  can  be  distinguished  by  its 
"greenery,"  as  the  natural  temple  in  which  the  original 
TOW  of  Swiss  freedom  was  registered  more  than  five  centu- 
ries since.  As  I  strained  my  eyes  to  catch  the  spot 
through  the  growing  light  of  morning,  there  came  to  my 
memory  a  passage  which  I  had  been  reading  in  a  Swiss 
history  a  few  days  before,  namely,  those  words  of  fierce 
taunt  with  which  the  wife  of  "  Werner  Stauifacher"  first 
roused  in  him  that  spirit  of  resistance  to  the  "  castled 
chiefs,"  who  from  their  strongholds  of  pride,  lust,  and  op- 
pression, had  so  long  held  the  mountaineers  in  thraldom : 

"  Combien  de  temps  encore  verra-t-on  I'orgueil  rire  et  Thuinilitd 
pleurer  ?  Des  etrangers  seront-ils  les  maitres  de  ce  pays,  et  les  h^ritiers 
de  nos  biens  ?  A  quoi  sert-il  que  nos  montagnes  soient  habitees  par  des 
hommes  ?  M^res,  devons-nous  nourrir  des  fils  mendians,  et  elever  nos 
filles  pour  servir  d'esclaves  aux  etrangers?  Loin  de  nous  tant  de  la- 
chetd!"— 

These  words,  as  we  loitered  over  our  cafe  before  de- 
parture next  morning,  wrought  themselves  into  the  fol- 
lowing contribution  to  the  Eighi  Culm  Album : 

THE  BIRTH-WORDS  OF  SWISS  FREEDOM. 

How  long  from  the  castles  which  rise  on  our  steeps 
Shall  pride  see  abasement,  and  mock  while  it  weeps, 
And  foreigners  sit  in  their  cordon  of  towers, 
Making  spoil  of  our  goods  in  the  land  that  is  ours  f 


Jl  eighi  DAT. — "  THE  M0ENI17G. 

How  long  must  we  ask  in  each  mountain-girt  glen 
To  what  purpose  our  father-land  nourishes  men  ? 
How  long  must  we  mothers  sit  abject  in  dust, 
Breeding  boys  as  their  bondmen,  and  girls  for  their  lust  ? 

Oh !  when  will  the  breeze  sweeping  free  o'er  our  hills 
Inspire  this  bold  truth — "  Man  is  free  when  he  wills?" 
Or  when  will  our  snows  wash  the  blot  from  our  name 
"Which  makes  it  'mong  nations  a  by -word  of  shame  ? 

Each  taunt  like  a  sting,  brought  to  Stauffacher's  cheek 

The  warm  tingling  blood,  still  no  word  did  he  speak  j 

But  each  on  his  heart  as  a  kindling  spark  fell. 

And  the  fire  lighted  there  spread  to  Furst,—MelchtJwll^—Tdl ! 

It  kindled,  it  strengthened— it  glowed,  and  full  soon, 
Where  the  meadows  of  Griitli  lay  pale  in  the  moon, 
Brave  men, — met  with  heaven-lifted  hands  and  bent  knee, — 
Swore  a  vow,  which  they  kept,  and  the  Swytz-land  is  free. 

Righi  Culm,  June  11,  1851. 

"We  are  whiling  away  description,  as  we  whiled  away 
our  time  on  the  Culm,  in  hopes  that  to  the  splendours  of 
our  sunset  and  sunrise  might  be  added  one  other  exhibition, 
which  woul  1  have  rendered  our  achievement  of  the  Eighi  a 
perfect,  a  ''plus  quam  perfectmi''  success.  "We  had  heard 
of  the  "Eighi  Spectre"— a  kind  of  Swiss  rival  to  the 
"  Spectre  of  the  Brocken" — and  we  lingered  on  the  Culm, 
in  the  hope  that  to  all  our  other  good  fortune  might  be 
added  that  peculiar  atmospheric  combination  of  mist  and 
sunshine,  by  which  sometimes  the  shadow  of  the  mountain, 
and  of  any  person  who  may  be  on  it  at  the  time,  are  pro- 
jected in  gigantic  proportions  upon  a  huge  vapour  looking- 
glass,  or  curtain,  opposite.  "We  waited  in  vain  for  this 
grand  phenomenon,  and  yet  our  watch  was  not  altogether 
fruitless.  For,  though  the  mist  was  wanting,  the  sun 
shone  out  with  remarkable  strength  and  power,  and  gave 


ill 


364      GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUIl"-ISTS. 

US  a  minor  wonder  well  worth  waiting  for.  This  was  no 
less  than  the  whole  mountain  on  which  we  stood  clearly 
reflected  from  the  snow-curtain  or  sheet  of  the  Oberland 
Alps.  We  could  trace  the  outline  of  the  Eighi  quite  as 
distinctly  as  our  own  shadows  on  the  grass  before  us ;  and 
must  leave  to  the  reader  to  calculate  the  delight  with 
which  we  viewed  this  effect  of  a  solar  magic  lantern,  in 
which  the  object  exhibited  was  an  isolated  mountain  5700 
feet  in  altitude,  projected  at  a  distance  of  from  fifty  to  one 

hundred  miles ! 

The  sun  was  now  shining  in  his  strength  upon  the  earth, 
the  glory  of  the  ante  and  post  sunrise  half-hour  was  gone, 
and  we  now  turned  into  the  "  Culm  Hotel"  for  coffee  and 
the  bill,  preparatory  to  our  descent  by  the  way  of  Kuss- 
nath  to  Lucerne.  We  had  discharged  our  cavalry  the  night 
before ;  the  downward  journey  was  to  be  made  on  foot,  or, 
where  the  way  allowed  the  ladies  to  be  carried,  by  chaises 
a  jporteur  eng^gedi  iov  them;  while  our  American  friend, 
his  guide,  and  I,  took  the  road,  or  rather  the  ravine, 
Alpen-stock  in  hand. — (N.B.  Every  one  buys  an  Alpen- 
stock on  a  Swiss  mountain.  It  would  be  a  curious  statis- 
tical inquiry  to  ascertain,  how  many  of  them  are  ever 
carried  beyond  the  first  hotel,  where  they  are  laid  down  ?) 

The  downward  path  to  Kussnath  has  nothing  remarkable 
about  it,  and  our  progress  was  marked  by  little  of  interest, 
save  a  conversation  witli  our  friend's  guide,  which  I  record 
here  for  the  benefit  of  those  tourists  who  travel  over  Europe, 
surrendering  themselves  to  the  "tender  mercies"  of  that 
preying  variety  of  the  genus  Jiomo  called — Courier  1 

We  had  by  this  time  established  a  pleasant  travelling 
familiarity  with  the  young  American.  He  attached  him- 
self to  the  suite  of  my  daughters,  while  his  guide  trans- 


A  EIGHI  DAT. — "  THE  MOENING. 


11 


365 


ferred  his  attentions  altogether  to  me.  I  found  him  very 
intelligent  and  communicative,  and  he  produced  a  perfect 
volume  of  attestations  from  tourists,  all  certifying  that  the 
writers  had  tested  his  civility  and  fidelity  through  all  sorts 
of  explorations  of  Alp-land. 

Our  conversation  was  carried  on  in  Erench,  and  after  I 
had  asked  him  if  "he  knew  anything  of  English?"  to 
which  his  response  was,  "  No,  sir,  I  wish  I  did,"  he  sur- 
prised me  by  the  inquiry  whether  "  I  wanted  a  domestic  ?" 
a  question  which  he  followed  up  by  an  offer,  that  if  I  would 
take  him  to  England  in  my  service,  he  would  "  serve  me 
for  five  years  without  any  wages— not  any  whatever!" 

I  was  startled  by  the  proposition;  reminiscences  of 
"  Lord  William  Eussell's*  tragedy"  came  to  my  memory— 
I  had  not  the  least  desire  to  accept  the  offer;  and  at  last 
I  said,  "  It  is  not  the  custom  of  English  masters  to  receive 
service  without  wages.  We  never  do  it."  I  then  added, 
"  Why  do  you  make  the  proposal  ?" 

"  Tenez,  monsieur,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  my  arm  ; 
"  I  am  here  a  guide,  and  a  good  one.  But  here  I  can 
never  be  more ;  I  am  a  guide  for  life — until  I  grow  old,  or 
perish  perhaps  some  day  in  a  crevasse  or  a  drift — but  if  I 
was  some  years — say  five — for  I  am  young,  monsieur — 
in  England,  I  should  then  comprehend  English,  and  make 
myself  courier;  and  then,"  his  eyes  sparkled  as  he  said, 
"in  a  few  years  more  I  should  come  home  and  sit  down 
rich— rich  as  a  syndic"  (this  being,  I  suppose,  the  Swiss 
equivalent  for  our  expression  of  "  rich  as  a  Jew"). 

*  For  fear  of  confusion  with  the  historic  tragedy  of  "  William  Lord 
Russell,"  I  note  that  this  refers  to  the  murder  of  an  aged  nobleman  of 
that  name  by  Courvoisier,  his  Swiss  valet,  fearfully  committed,  and  won- 
derfully discovered  in  London,  some  years  since. 


366 


a 


5) 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  ''  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


"  But,"  I  replied,  "  your  wages  as  a  guide  are  quite  as 
good  as  a  courier's,  I  should  think  ?" 

"  Wages — bah ! — wages  is  a  bagatelle.  Monsieur  will 
pardon  my  ignorance,  that  I  presumed  to  offer  him  a 
compliment  of  it  for  his  service. — Wages  is  nothing — 
nothing!  it  is  *the  opportunities' !  and  all  that.^* 

"  What  are  the  opportunities  ?"  I  asked,  knowing  his 
meaning,  but  wishing  to  discover  more  of  his  opinion  on 
the  subject. 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  are,  for  I  am  not  courier  yet. 
There  is  a  *  Verhimdnih'  among  them  which  I  hope  to 
understand  some  day.  All  I  know  now  is,  that  I  see  poor 
fellows  like  myself  go  out  in  a  courier  dress,  and  presently 
they  come  home,  and  don't  regard  the  *  burgmeister :' 
that's  what  I  should  like  to  do." 

Our  subject  ended  on  my  assuring  the  poor  fellow  that 
his  proposition  could  not  be  entertained  by  me.  Possibly 
"  Louis  Schmutz  of  Swytz"  (such  was  his  name  recorded  in 
my  pocket-book)  may  have  since  found  some  one  to  accept 
his  services,  and  put  him  in  the  way  of  gratifying  his  am- 
bition, though  I  fear  without  improving  his  integrity. 

While  on  the  subject,  I  may  mention  an  incident  illus- 
trative of  those  "  opportunities,"  which  improved  as  they 
know  how  to  improve  them,  send  these  courier  gentry 
home  as  "rich  as  syndics"  and  proud  as  " burgmeisters." 

When  leaving  Eome  in  that  annual  dispersion  after 
Easter,  which  regularly  puts  fifty  per  cent,  on  the  price  of 
veturinos  and  post-horses  until  the  flood-tide  of  travel  has 
abated,  an  agreeable  military  friend,  who  had  half  pro- 
mised to  take  the  fourth  seat  in  our  carriage,  told  me  one 
day  that  he  had  been  seized  on  by  two  old  lady  relatives, 


A  EIGHI  DAY. — "  THE  MOENING." 


367 


whom  he  accidentally  encountered,  and  who,  in  their  horrors 
and  alarms  at "  banditti,"  had  fairly  pressed  him  into  their 
service  as  far  as  Florence. 

"  Their  courier  was  not  to  be  found,"  said  he,  "ajid  in 
the  run  for  carriages,  I  am  going  to  engage  a  veturino  for 
them.     I'm  sorry  I  can't  join  you;  I  had  much  rather." 

I  also  expressed  my  regret,  and  we  parted.  Later  in  the 
day,  I  met  him  again,  in  high  glee  at  having  just  concluded 
an  engagement  for  a  very  good  carriage  and  horses  at  the 
price  of,  I  think,  twenty-three  Napoleons,  or  some  such 
sum;  and,  considering  the  "run"  on  the  road,  I  thought 
he  had  made  a  very  fair  bargain  indeed. 

Next  day  we  met  as  usual.     When,  in  reply  to  some 

question  as  to  his  journey,  Captain  M 's  countenance 

immediately  fell,  as  he  answered :  "  I'm  in  a  pleasant  tra- 
velling predicament.  In  my  endeavour  to  serve  these  old 
tabbies  I  told  you  of,  I  am  become  liable  to  a  complaint  for 
a  broken  ^contrattof  "  and  then,  with  an  emphasis  most  un- 
usual with  a  high-bred  gentleman,  he  added  one  of  those 
expressions  which  "in  a  captain  is  a  choleric  word," — 
"  When  I  interfere  between  a  courier  and  his  dupes  again, 

m . 

He  then  related  to  me,  that  while  in  the  act  of  telling 
his  ancient  relatives  the  clever  bargain  he  had  concluded 
on  their  behalf,  in  marched  the  courier !  who,  heretofore, 
in  all  their  journey ings,  had  sole  charge  of  these  old  ladies, 
"  body,  soul,  and  *  circular  notes'  inclusive."  Monsieur  le 
Courier  listened  very  coldly  to  the  intelligence  of  Captain 

M 's  bargain ;  observed  that  a  carriage  at  that  price 

could  not  be  fit  for  "  '  Miladies'  to  put  foot  into  ;  he  had 
himself  just  engaged  a  carriage,  en  particiilier  and  tres  hon 


i 


t 


\ 


368 


»» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GRAND  TOUR    -ISTS. 


marche,  for  thirty  mpoleons;  the  'contraM  was  made,  and 
he  could  not  break  it  without  forfeit"— and  so  on.  "  The 
worst  of  it  is,"  continued  the  irate  captain,  "  I  have  seen 
the  carriage  the  infernal  scoundrel  has  put  upon  us.  It  is 
one  I  rejected  myself  as  inferior,  before  I  engaged  my  own ; 
and,  as  sure  as  we  are  speaking,  the  fellow  actually  pays 
less  for  it,  and  pockets  the  difference,  in  the  shape  of  com- 
mission, per-centage,  or  some  such  mode  of  extortion." 

So  much  for  the  "  opportunities"  which  send  these 
harpies  home  rich  men  after  a  few  years'  plunder  of 
English  dupes.  I  say  English,  for,  according  to  the  pro- 
verb, "  Hawks  do  not  pike  out  hawks'  eyes,"  continentals 
seldom  prei/  on  each  other  ;  and  I  believe  the  English  to  be 
the  only  nation  which  delivers  itself,  tied  and  bound,  to 
the  calamity  of  Courierism. 

The  descent  from  the  Eighi  brings  you  to  one  of  the 
«  Tell's  chapels,"  of  which  there  are  several  in  this  cradle 
comer  of  Swiss  freedom. 

It  is  very  provoking  to  find  in  our  utilitarian  age  that 
Tell  and  his  heroism  is  beginning  to  be  rationalised  into 
little  better  than  a  myth.  Some  ugly  anachronisms  are 
beginning  to  be  affirmed  as  to  his  various  trophies ;  for 
example,  the  tower,  popularly  supposed  to  mark  the  spot 
where  he  shot  the  apple  from  his  son's  head,  is  now  dis- 
covered to  have  existed  a  century  previous  to  the  date  of 
that  event— if,  indeed,  it  ever  eventuated  at  all !— and  in  like 
manner  do  they  begin  to  pick  holes  in  the  other  deeds  of 
daring  in  his  memorable  career.  So  that  there  is  much 
danger  that  in  some  future  day  this  object  of  popular  hero- 
worship  will  himself  be  explained  away  into  a  kind  of  Swiss 
"  Mrs.  Harris.'*     This  is  not  merely  provoking,  but  in- 


A  RIGHI  DAY. "  THE  MORNING. 


j> 


369 


jurious.  It  is  removing  from  before  the  minds  of  the 
simple  mountaineers  a  standard  measure  of  patriotic  de- 
votion and  daring,  which  has  often  led  them  to  maintain 
their  hardwon  rights,  to  the  admiration  of  the  world. 
Malo  cum  Flatone  errare.  Eather  than  be  convinced  with, 
or  by,  the  most  hard-headed  matter-of-fact  investigator 
of  our  age,  I  should  prefer  these  reflections,  to  the  follow- 
ing effect,  which  suggested  themselves  to  the  mind  of  Sir 
James  Mackintosh  at  the  chapel  of  the  Tellen-platte,  on 
Lucerne  Lake,  the  principal  shrine  of  Swiss  devotion  to 
the  memory  of  their  hero  : 

"  To  the  inhabitants  of  Thermopylae  or  Marathon  these  famous  spots 
are  but  so  many  square  feet  of  earth.  England  is  too  extensive,  too 
much  carried  away  by  industry  and  utility,  to  hold  Runnymede  as  an 
object  of  national  affection.  Switzerland  is,  perhaps,  the  only  place  in 
our  globe  where  deeds  of  pure  virtue,  ancient  enough  to  be  venerable,  are 
consecrated  by  the  religion  of  the  people,  and  continue  to  command  inte- 
rest and  reverence.  No  local  superstition  so  beautiful  and  so  moral  as 
that  connected  with  the  deeds  of  William  Tell  anywhere  exists." 

This  is  quite  true — true  to  nature  and  to  philosophy 
alike — and  the  principle  is  enforced  by  the  constant  and 
simple  references  by  which  the  Swiss  are  ever  directed  to 
their  primitive  models  of  patriotism  for  imitation,  as  for 
caution  against  the  deteriorating  efiects  of  modern  corrup- 
tions and  foreign  intercourse. 

•  "  Cavete  Rheti,  simplicitas  morum,  et  uniOj  servabunt 
avitam  libertatem,^^  is  the  sign-post  warning  with  which 
the  Fathers  of  Switzerland  indicated  to  their  children  that 
one  of  the  highways  to  "  sad  and  sunken  Italy"  is  now 
open  to  friend  and  foe  ;  and  as  we  waited  for  the  carriage 
before  Tell's  chapel,  in  the  Hohlegaste,  near  Kussnath,  I 
copied  a  corresponding  inscription,    addressed,    not    to 

2b 


I 


370  GLEANINGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  T0UE"-I8TS. 

traveUers,  but  to  the  natives.  I  copied  the  characters  as 
I  read  them,  but  it  was  not  until  I  found  an  interpreter 
in  the  pretty  little  Engluh-t^ughi  daughter  of  "mine 
host  -  at  Schaifhausen,  that  I  could  attempt  a  free  version 
of  the  homely  Swiss  doggerel  which  marks  the  hoUow  way 
where  Tell  is  said  to  have  done  his  act  of  "wild justice 
upon  Gessler,  the  tyrant  of  his  country : 

"  Gessler's  lochmut  Tell  er  scbosen, 
Unde  edel  Schweizer  frechheit  enser  osen; 
Wie  lang  wird  aber  solche  wahren? 
Nach  lange  wen  wir  die  Alten  wahren." 

Here  where  Tell  did  Gessler  shoot, 
Switz-land's  freedom-tree  took  root ; 
Shall  tyrants'  axe  this  fair  tree  fell  ? 
Never !  whUe  Swiss-men  be  like  Tell. 

At  Kussnath,  conveyances  are  as  welcome  to  the  tired 
traveller  as  they  are  easily  had;  and  the  drive  along  its 
beautiful  bay  to  Lucerne  might  be  called  the  perfection 
of  lake  travel.     We  traversed  the  border   of  the  lair 
waters  of  the  "  Lake  of  the  Four  Cantons,"  as  they  lay  in 
all  that  wondrous  variety  of  light  and  shade  which  the 
Alpine  ranges  on  the  opposite  shore  distributed  over  the 
surface.    Mont  Pilatre  rose  before  us  in  frownmg  majesty, 
seeming  thousands  of  feet  higher  than  when  we  confronted 
bim  on  equal  terms  from  the  rival  eminence  of  the  Eighi. 
'  He  seemed  to  rise,  whereas  it  was,  in  fact,  we  who  had 
descended  nearer  to  his  base  level;  thus  illustrating  the 
social  paradox,  that  some  people,  without  any  real  im- 
provement,  seem  elevated  in  the  scale  of  moral  excellence, 
merely  by  the  deterioration  of  those  around  them. 


A  EIGHI  DAT. "  THE  MOENmG.'* 


371 


At  quiet,  sleepy  Lucerne,  our  Eighi-bund  dissolved 
itself.  Our  American  friend  left  us,  with,  as  has  been 
already  intimated,  his  most  definite  purpose  towards  the 
Czar-dom  of  Musco\y,  while  we  retraced  our  way  to  Zu- 
rich, to  reclaim  nos  hag  ages.  It  was  a  pleasant  associa- 
tion while  it  lasted,  and  a  complete  success  in  an  adventure 
which  is  generally  supposed,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  to 
end  in  failure  and  diappointment. 

p.S. — Our  excellent  and  never-to-be-sufficiently-com- 
mended friend,  "  Murray,"  who  declares  himself  "  soli- 
citous to  be  favoured  with  corrections  of  mistakes,"  and 
promises  that  such  communications  will  be  specially  wel- 
comed as  are  "  founded  on  j^ersonal  knowledge,"  has  not 
yet  acknowledged,  either  in  print  or  in  private,  a  letter 
duly  despatched  from  Zurich,  in  correction  of  the  following 
doggerel  growls,  copied  into  his  "  Swiss  Guide  Eook"  from 
the  Eighi  Culm  Album,  as  descriptive  of  the  fate  of  a  large 
majority  of  Eighi  expeditions  : 

GRUMBLERS  LOQUU5TUR. 

"  Seven  weary  up-hill  leagues  we  sped 

The  setting  sun  to  see ; 
Sullen  and  grim  he  went  to  bed, 

Sullen  and  grim  went  we. 
Nine !  sleepless  hours  of  night  we  past 

The  rising  sun  to  see ; 
Sullen  and  grim  he  rose  again, 

Sullen  and  grim  rose  we." 

Now  it  was  but  an  act  of  bare  justice,  and  due  acknow- 
ledgment to  the  Eighi,  and  to  the  Sun,  to  offer  our 
counter-certificate  of  the  treatment  we  experienced  in  our 

2b2 


;i 


372 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE   -ISTS. 


expedition  to  the  same  locality,  and  with  the  same  objects. 
This  was  accordingly  done.  Our  counter-statement  was 
duly  drawn  up ;  we 

"  Sent  it  in  a  letter  to  the  Editor;'* 

he  did  not 

"  Duly  thank  us  by  return  of  post." 

We  continue  still 

"  For  a  handsome  article  his  creditor  ;'* 

but! 

"  Lest  our  evidence  be  wholly  lost," 

we  hereby  record  our  protest  against  grumbling,  to  stand 
as  the  conclusion   of  our  "  Eighi  Day"—"  ad  rei  me- 


moriam. 


>» 


A  EIGHI  DAT. — "  THE  MOENING." 


This  morn  at  half-past  three  we  rose, 
And  for  his  levee  shivering  waited ; 

The  same  round  jolly  face  he  shows — 
In  frank  good-humour  unabated — 

To  them  his  sulks,  to  us  his  rays. 

This  moral  teaches — may  we  mind  it— 
Choose  well  your  time,  since  all  men  praise 

The  "sun"  and  "  ford"— ^ms^  as  they  find  it 


373 


"  All  praise  the  ford  as  they  find  it.''— Old  Proverb. 

TO   MURILVY,    PRINCE  OF  GUIDE-BOOK   MAKERS. 

From  the  Righi  Culm,  June  11,  1851. 

Dear  Sir, — Your  "  Hand-books"  all  invite 

Tourists  to  send  you  their  corrections. 
But  you're  so  generally  right 

There's  seldom  room  to  make  objections. 

Still,  when  in  "  Hand-book  Suisse''  you  quote 
Some  rhymes  (not  over  good  the  rhyming), 

Methinks  the  grumpy  "  gents"  who  wrote, 
Should  have  "  sped  up-hill"  better  time  in  ; 

For, — Righi's  top  last  night  climbed  we, 

To  watch  the  sun  while  disappearing ; 
"  Sullen  nor  grim  "  good  sooth  was  he, — 

His  parting  smile  was  warm  and  cheering. 


374  GLEANINGS  ATTEB  "  GB^ND  TOTJa"-ISTS. 


"  TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN.'* 


375 


CHAPTER  XX. 


"  TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN 


5> 


"  The  Faculty"  are  fearfully  fond  of  sending  patients 
to  change  the  air  and  climate,  when  the  remedy  {if  a 
remedy)  is  "  too  late !"  It  is  whispered  that  our  learned 
leeches  feel  a  decided  objection  to  have  a  patient  who  has 
long  lingered  in  their  hands,  die  on  their  hands  ;  and  that 
hence,  we  often  see  the  poor  hectic  girl,  or  emaciated  boy, 
ordered  off  to  "  Nice,"  *'  Naples,"  or  ^'  Madeira,"  in  that 
stage  of  gaUoping  consumption,  which  just  aUows  them  to 
"  see  land— and  die."  Many  a  British  subject  has  found 
a  grave  in  some  foreign  soil,  which  he  or  she  never  touched 

with  living  feet. 

In  the  case  of  the  young,  who  have  not  lived  so  long  as 
to  have  had  their  habits  and  affections  trained  and  twined 
round  home  and  its  associations,  this  carrying  away  from 
familiar  things  and  faces  is  not  so  much  felt ;  but  when 
the  same  desperate  death-warrant  remedy  is  prescribed  for 
the  old,  lolio  know  what  it  means,  the  wrench  which  tears 
them,  while  yet  living,  from  all  home  things,  has  in  it  an 
anticipatory  bitterness  of  death,  and  the  cases  are  not  un- 


common in  which,  after  all  the  expense  and  agitation  of 
removal  has  been  undergone,  the  poor  heart,  unable  to 
endure  the  anticipation  of  the  last  scene,  and  the  final 
eye-closing  under  the  hard  hands  of  careless  strangers, 
has  besought,  as  earnestly  as  if  the  thing  asked  were  life 
and  health,  to  be  "  taken  home  to  die !" 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  whose  sympathies  with  home  and 
country  were  of  a  peculiarly  deep  and  earnest  kind,  has 
left  some  touching  illustrations  of  what  we  mean  as  to 
this  matter;  in  one  of  those  beautiful  passages*  which 
will  ever  hold  their  standard  place  in  English  literature, 
he  transfers  his  own  feelings  to  "the  inanimate  world" 
he  lived  in  and  loved,  and  after  first  representing  "  mute 
Nature"  as  mourning  "  her  worshipper,"  the  poet  owns 
the  illusion,  and  claims  as  his  own  the   sensibility  with 

«  "  Call  it  not  vain  ;  they  do  not  err 

Who  say,  that  when  a  poet  dies, 
Mute  Nature  mourns  her  worshipper 

And  celebrates  his  obsequies  ; 
Who  say,  tall  cliff  and  cavern  lone 
For  the  departed  bard  make  moan ; 
That  mountains  weep  in  crystal  rill ; 
That  flowers  in  tears  of  balm  distil ; 
Through  his  loved  groves  that  breezes  sigh, 
And  oaks  in  deeper  groan  reply, 
And  rivers  teach  their  rushing  wave 
To  murmur  dirges  round  his  grave. 
Not  that,  in  sooth,  o'er  mortal  urn 
Those  things  inanimate  can  mourn. 
But  that  the  stream,  the  wood,  the  gale, 
Is  vocal  with  the  plaintive  wail 
Of  those  who,  else  forgotten  long, 
Lived  in  the  poet's  faithful  song. 
And  with  the  poet's  parting  breath, 

Whose  memory  feels  a  second  death. 

♦  »  ♦  *  * 

Lay  of  the  Last  3Iinstrel,  canto  v. 


I 


376 


?» 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GBAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


which  he  had  invested  her.  Nor  is  it  less  to  be  noted  that 
in  the  hour  of  his  calamity,  when  the  splendid  bubble  of 
his  fortunes  had  burst,  and  the  household  gods  he  had  con- 
stituted "  lay  shivered  round  him,"  not  one  of  all  the  dark 
visions  of  the  future  which  the  "Ballantyne  bankruptcy" 
called  up — not  the  "  walking  his  last  in  the  domains  he 
had  planted,"  or  "  sitting  the  last  time  in  the  halls  he  had 
built" — could  shake  the  resolute  will,  or  "  bring  moisture 
to  the  manly  eye,"  until  he  reached  the  point  of  wishing 
himself  expatriated,  and  compelled  to 

"  lay  his  bones  afar  from  Tweed ;" 

but  as  he  thought  of  tUs,  the  strong  man  "  bowed  down 
and  wept!" 

And  when  in  long  after  years  the  vision  came  to  be 
something  like  reality,  and  the  strong  man  was  indeed 
bowed  by  disease,  and  the  master  but  overtasked  mind  lay 
partially  overthrown,  it  is  intensely  affecting  to  observe 
the  working  of  the  same  home-sick  yearnings  manifesting 
themselves  through  decay,  and  for  a  moment  arresting 
even  the  fatal  power  of  death-illness. 

When  Sir  Walter's  giant  frame  gave  way,  the  usual 
panacea  of  a  southern  clime  was  ordered  for  tlie  shattered 
invalid,  and  the  remedy  was  used  with  all  the  promptness 
which  zeal  and  anxiety  could  apply ;  a  "  King's  ship"  was 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  him  whom  King  and  Nation  alike 
delighted  to  honour ;  the  voyage  to  sunny  Italy  was  made 
with  all  the  ease  and  comfort  which  could  be  attained  in 
such  circumstances ;  in  Italy  honours  and  attentions  of 
all  kinds  awaited  the  dying  man,  whose  reputation  was 
"  world-wide ;"  but  through  and  in  despite  of  all,  while  the 


"  TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN." 


377 


malady  was  gaining  ground,  sapping  the  fortress,  and 
winning  its  fatal  victory  day  by  day,  the  longing  which 
lay  deep  and  concentrated  in  Scott's  secret  heart  was 
to  be  "  taken  home  again!"  Nor  was  it  uninteresting  to 
remark  that  the  last  authenticated  scrap  of  the  patriot's 
writing  is  stated  to  be  an  entry  scrawled  in  a  guest - 
book  in  the  Tyrol,  thus — "  Sie  Waltee  Scott" — ^^  for 
Scotland!'' 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  London  on  his  homeward 
journey,  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  those  who  were  piously 
bent  on  fulfilling  his  wish,  would  be  able  to  do  so.  Fresh 
access  of  disease  had  brought  on  stupor-like  unconscious- 
ness, and  in  this  state  the  sufierer  was  conveyed  on  board 
a  steamer  bound  for  Scotland,  to  the  wonder  of  all  who 
did  not  know  the  depth  of  earnestness  with  which  he  had 
deprecated  the  idea  of  being  laid  ''  afar  from  Tweed !" 

The  whole  account  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  dying  hour  is 
given  by  his  son-in-law  with  the  pen  of  a  master,  whose 
soul  and  sympathies  were  in  his  subject,  and  cannot  be 
read,  even  on  repetition,  without  emotion,  including,  as  it 
does,  the  dying  testimony  of  the  great  book-maker  of  the 
age,  from  whose  mind  books  teemed  forth  as  from  a  mine, 
that  for  that  hour  "there  is  no  Booh  hut  One  !"  The  part 
of  Mr.  Lockhart's  narrative  which  bears  upon  our  subject 
is  so  very  naturally  and  beautifully  told  that  we  transcribe 
it  at  length,  as  a  better  exposition  of  our  meaning  than  we 
could  give  ourselves.  As  has  been  said,  the  dying  man 
was  put  on  board  the  steamer  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness, 
and  in  the  same  state  was  landed  at  Newhaven,  and  placed 
in  a  travelling-carriage  to  journey  towards  his  home  on 
"  Tweed  side." 


37S 


n 


GLEANn^GS  AFTEE  "  GEA5D  TOUE   -ISTS. 


"  As  we  descended  the  Vale  of  the  Gala  he  began  to  gaze  about  him, 
and  by  degrees  it  was  obvious  that  he  was  recognising  the  features  of 
that  famiUar  landscape.  Presently  he  murmured  a  name  or  two :  '  Gala 
water,  surely  /'— '  Buckholm !'— '  Torwoodlee  !'  As  we  rounded  the  hill 
at  Ladhope,  and  the  outline  of  '  the  Eildons'  burst  upon  him,  he  became 
greatly  excited,  and  when,  turning  hunself  on  the  couch,  his  eye  caught 
at  length  his  own  towers  at  the  distance  of  a  mile,  he  sprang  up  with  an 
eye  of  delight.  The  river  bemg  in  flood  we  had  to  go  round  a  few  miles 
by  Melrose  Bridge,  and  during  the  time  thus  occupied,  his  woods  and 
house  being  in  prospect,  it  required  occasionally  both  Dr.  Watson's 
strength  and  mine,  in  addition  to  Nicholson's  (his  servant's),  to  keep  him 
in  the  carriage.  After  passing  the  bridge,  the  road  for  a  couple  of  miles 
loses  sight  of  Abbotsford,  and  he  relapsed  into  his  stupor ;  but  on  gainmg 
the  bank  immediately  above  it,  his  excitement  became  again  ungovern- 
able. . 

"  Mr.  Laidlaw  was  waiting  us  in  the  porch,  and  assisted  us  m  liftmg 
him  into  the  dining-room,  where  his  bed  had  been  prepared.  He  sat  be- 
wildered for  a  few  moments,  and  then  resting  his  eye  on  Laidlaw,  said, 
'Ha!  Willie  Laidlaw!  Oman,  how  often  ha  e  I  thought  of  you!'  By 
this  time  his  dogs  had  assembled  about  his  chair;  they  began  to  fawn 
upon  him,  and  lick  his  hands,  and  he  alternately  sobbed  and  smUed  over 
them  until  sleep  oppressed  him." 

A  few  words  more  will  give  this  affecting  description 
all  the  force  and  beauty  of  a  picture : 

"  About  half-past  one  p.m.  on  the  21st  of  September,  1832,  Sir  Walter 
breathed  his  last  in  the  presence  of  aU  his  children.  It  was  a  beautiful 
day!  so  warm  that  every  window  was  wide  open,  and  so  perfectly  still 
that  the  sound  of  all  others  most  delicious  to  his  ear,  the  gentle  ripple  of 
the  Tweed  over  its  pebbles,  was  distinctly  audible  as  we  knelt  round  his 
bed,  and  his  eldest  son  kissed  and  closed  his  eyes."— Zoc^Aari'*  ScoU. 

All  that  has  been  thus  said,  and  exemplified,  of  the 
reluctance  with  which  the  Englishman  lies  down  to  die 
abroad,  is  aggravated  by  a  consideration  which  we  would 
gladly  omit ;  but  truth  will  not  allow  us  to  pass  over  the 
cruel  ferocity  with  which  foreign  bigotry  tries  to  barb  the 
sting  of  death  for  the  English  stranger,  by  holding  over 
him  a  denial  of  the  decencies  of  Christian  burial,  "  because 
he  foUoweth  not  tcitJi  itsr     Go  where  you  will  through 


1-5 


a 


TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN. 


»» 


379 


continental  Europe,  you  find  traces  of  this  horrid  purpose: 
to  record  exelusiveness  in  human  dust,  and  to  carry  the 
bitterness  of  controversy  even  into  the  house  where  the 
*'  weary  are  at  rest."  Marvellous  it  is,  to  think  that  those 
who  claim  to  be  inheritors  of  "  the  Chui'ch  of  the  Cata- 
combs"—now  that,  instead  of  lurking  in  caves  and  dens 
of  the  earth,  they  have  come  to  sit  in  "the  high  places," 
with  power  in  their  hands — should  so  unblushingly  ignore 
the  early  Church's  experience  of  "  the  heart  of  a  stranger" 
(Exodus  xxiii.  9),  and  calumniate  that  primitive  Chris- 
tianity they  profess  to  inherit,  by  suggesting  that  it  was 
not  the  spirit  but  the  power  to  persecute  which  the  early 
Christians  lacked ;  and  stranger  than  all  it  is,  that  those 
religionists,  who  in  Protestant  England  have  appealed  so 
loudly  and  successfully  to  principles  of  "  civil  and  religious 
liberty,"  as  eternal  and  immutable,  should  feel  no  sense  of 
shame,  or  inconsistency,  when  they  look  at  the  late  Spanish 
"Concordat"  of  his  Holiness  the  Pope,  or  when  they 
remember  the  by-ways  and  nooks  in  which  alone  the 
worship  or  interment  of  an  English  Protestant  is  per- 
mitted throughout  the  range  of  the  Papal  power.  In 
Eome,  it  was  only  after  a  world  of  device  and  caution  that 
an  enclosure  for  Protestant  burial  was  permitted  ("  suh 
invocatione  Call  Cestii  Mhnid,''  as  a  Eoman  once  mock- 
ingly said  to  me),  and  even  within  this,  their  own  allotted 
cincture,  a  ferocious  censorship  forbids  the  inscription  of 
a  line  of  Scripture,  or  expression  o  fChristian  faith  or 
hope,  on  a  Protestant  tombstone  ;  while  elsewhere  through 
Italy  the  traveller  is  not  unfrequently  startled  by  some 
well-known  or  familiar  name,  inscribed  in  the  "  unblest 
nook,"  or  "out-of-the-way   comer,"  in  which  onl^  the 


380 


u 


GLEAl^'INGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  TOtlE   -ISTS. 


Christian  charity  and  tolerance  of  the  dominant  Church 
could  permit  love  and  sorrow  "  to  bury  their  dead  out  of 
sight." 

This  horrid  narrowness,  surviving  that  event  which  in 
general  brings  men  to  lay  down  all  other  enmities  at  the 
grave-side,  existed  long  ago,  and  shows  no  sign  of  yielding 
to  that  ameliorating  influence  which  some  shallow  persons 
dream  of  having  passed  on  the  spirit  of  the  Papacy.  When 
Young  buried  his  "  Narcissa," 

"  While  Nature  melted,  Superstition  raved, 
That  mourned  the  dead,  and  this  denied  a  grave, 
♦  *  *  *  ♦ 

Denied  the  charity  of  dust  to  spread 

O'er  dust— a  charity  their  dogs  enjoy. 

What  coiild  I  do?  what  succour?  what  resource? 

With  pious  sacrilege  a  grave  I  stole : 

More  like  her  murderer  than  friend  I  crept 

With  soft  suspended  step,  and  muffled  deep 

In  midnight  darkness,  whispered  my  last  sigh." 

This  ^-spleen  to  dust"  was  manifested  more  than  a 
century  ago,  and  when  "  Pio  Nono"  (who  ascended  his 
Seat  of  Eule  amid  shouts  of  welcome  and  universal 
^'jubilate,''  for  the  phenomenon  of  "a  Liheral!  and 
Eeforming  Pope")  was  a  few  years  since  readjusting  the 
relations  of  the  Church  with  that  model  of  zeal  and  purity 
"  Her  most  Catholic  Majesty"  of  Spain,  the  restrictions 
of  his  "  Concordat"  upon  the  decencies  of  foreign  burial 
throughout  the  Spanish  dominions  were  conceived  in  the 
narrowest  spirit  of  the  darkest  ages  of  the  Church's  worst 
intolerance,  and  the  Spanish  court  submitted  in  a  spirit 
of  subservient  bigotry  and  bad  faith,  which  was  well  and 
indignantly  exposed  by  the  English  ambassador.  Lord 
Howden.     "We  believe  some  relaxation  of  the  original 


"  TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN." 


381 


Papal  restrictions  has  been  obtained  by  the  firmness  of 
that  nobleman,  but  the  intolerant  mind  of  the  Holy  See 
was  not  the  less  manifested. 

It  may  be  thought  unworthy  of  a  Christian  to  make  so 
much  of  the  poor  posthumous  spite  which  thus  pursues  a 
religious  quarrel  even  into  the  grave,  and  that  a  fitter 
reflection  would  be,  on  the  power  and  love  of  Him,  who 
can,  and  will  call  his  people  even  from  those  depths  of  the 
sea,  or  those  sands  of  the  desert,  where  their  unburied 
bones  bleach  and  whiten,  or  from  the  wholesale  pits,  in 
which  the  brave  and  devoted  lie  massed,  by  the  shores  of 
the  Bosphorus,  or  on  the  heights  of  Balaklava.  This  is 
true,  and  it  is  a  true  and  wholesome  saying  "  worthy  of  all 
men  to  be  received,"  that  none  can  be  laid  where  He 
"  who  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners"  cannot  find 
them ;  but  this  does  not  render  less  hateful  the  hideous 
bigotry  which,  miscalling  itself  Christian  and  Catholic, 
would  fain  darken  the  closing  hours  of  a  sick  stranger 
with  a  refusal  of  the  charity  of  Christian  burial.  There  is 
less  mischief  than  malice  in  the  denial,  but  it  is  one  of 
those  cases  in  which  the  intention  to  wound  inflicts  more 
pain  than  the  injury  done,  and  suggests  to  any  one  who 
would  wish  to  pass  from  life  in  a  spirit  of  peace  and  good- 
will towards  all  men,  the  petition,  '*  God  grant  that  I  may 
not  die  in  a  land  so  Ch-istian  that  it  cannot  be  clia- 
ritable.^* 

All  these  reflections  have  evolved  themselves  in  my 
mind  as  I  took  a  final"  glean"  of  the  notes  which  have  fur- 
nished these  pages ;  although,  thanks  to  a  kind  Providence, 
I  was  enabled  so  to  complete  my  health-seeking  tour  as  to 
come  home  restored  in  health,  instead  of  being  "taken 


I 


382 


GLEANINGS  ATTER  "  GKAND  T0UE"-1STS. 


li 


TAKE  ME  HOME  AGAIN. 


,  »> 


383 


home  to  die;"  yet  the  memorials  of  other  tours,  which 
had  ended  differently,  and  which  I  found  thick-set  in  an 
orchard-field  near  our  inn  at  Bavenno,  suggested  a  train 
of  thought  resulting  in  the  following  entry  and  outburst 
of  a  feeling  akin  to  that  in  which  poor  Scott  said  to  WiUie 
Laidlaw,  "  O  man,  how  oft  ha'e  I  thought  of  you  I" 

«  I  had  wandered  out  in  the  glowing  evening  sun  from  the  little  town 
of  Bavenno,  close  under  the  bright  snowy  Alps,  and  turning  into  the 
village  churchyard,  I  saw  within  it,  at  the  end  of  the  staz^m^,  the  hideous 
'  CaLr^^ '  oTinning  and  offensive  with  its  real  charnel  heap  and  all  its 
tri:^e7of^r..-c;iety;  while,  in  an  orchard  beyond  the  churchyard 
wall  I  saw  a  reality  of  all  that  uncharitableness  from  which  m  the  Ian - 
^age  of  our  Lita/y,  I  say  with  my  whole  heart,  'Good  Lord  deliver 
us  '     There,  as  headstones  and  other  memorials  told  me,  lay  the  >oung, 
the  brave,  the  noble-names  standing  on  the  roll  of  History  and  Fame- 
who  hav  ng  sought  the  sunny  South  for  health,  had  here  l^d  down  to 
die  and  hai  beef  denied  the  grace  of  Christian  (?)  burial.     I  turned  me 
in     mine  inn,  more  sick  in  heart  than  in  body,  w  th  the  mental  petition, 
^  God  grant  that  I  may  not  die  in  this  land  \-take  me  home  ayam!    - 
MS.  Diary. 


Take  me  back  from  this  land,  where  the  torn  heart  must  crave 

In  grudg'd  unblest  nook — the  last  home  of  a  friend ; 
Where  hate  says  to  sorrow — "  Stand  mute  by  the  grave," 

Whence  "  not  without  hope"  sorrow's  prayer  should  ascend. 
Take  me  back  to  our  rude  home — its  clime  may  be  chill. 

But  its  sympathies  flow  not  through  ice  from  thQ  heart : 
Yon  Alp-peaks  stand  frozen— yet  far  colder  still, 

Are  this  sunny  land's  charities.     "  Let  us  depart." 

Bavenno,  1851. 


i 


Oh !  carry  me  back  to  the  land  of  my  birth, 

To  the  scenes  early  known— ever  pleasant  to  me ; 
If  vou  bury  me  here,  in  this  churl-granted  earth, 

Tho'  the  mould  may  lay  lightly,  I'll  fret  to  be  free  ! 
Make  me  rather  a  bed  on  the  heathy  hill-side 

Of  my  own  mountain  glen.     Could  you  know  how  I  love  it, 
You  might  feel  how  'twould  wound  me  in  dying  to  bide 

Far  away  from  its  breeze  and  the  blue  sky  above  it. 

I  see,  ^ere,  the  rest  by  the  bigot  assigned         ^ 

To  the  stranger  who  sick'ning  seeks  health  in  his  clime ;    ^^ 
How  the  "  house  of  all  flesh"  he  has  "  cribbed  and  confined. 

Treating  life  as  a  heresy,  death  as  a  crime.  ^ 

Take  me  back  where  the  fern-plume  waves  meetly  adornmg 

His  grave -who  had  loved  it  while  living— when  dead ; 
TYhere  the  dew-laden  hare-bell  wUl  weep  every  raommg 

The  tear  it  has  gathered  through  night  o'er  my  bed. 


384, 


GLEANINGS  AETER  "  GRAND  T0TJR"-ISTS. 


LENTOI. 


385 


L'ENVOI. 

On  submitting  the  foregoing  chapter  to  a  tribunal  of 
domestic  criticism,  in  a  "committee  of  the  whole  house," 
the  verdict  returned  was,  that  it  was  all  truly  described, 
very  true,  very  sad,  but  that  it  was  not  a  fitting  conclusion 
for  a  tour  through  which  a  kind  and  merciful  Providence 
had  carried  us  without  a  mischance  or  even  difficulty  of 
any  kind  worth  mentioning. 

"  You  know,  papa,"  it  was  urged,  "that  even  our  verj- 
mistakes  turned  to  our  advantage ;  but  for  your  ignorance 
of  "Eomanch,"  at  Coire,  we  should  have  passed  by  the 
Eighi ;  and  you  remember,  that  our  confounding  one  town 
with  another  procured  us  that  magnificent  drive  from 
Schaif  hausen  through  the  Black  Forest  and  the  '  Hellethal 
Valley'  defile,  at  the  end  of  which,  to  our  amazement,  we 
found  ourselves  at  :Pvihoixvg-Briesgau,  on  the  banks  of  the 
mine,  instead  of  Freybourg  in  Switzerland;  so  that,  on 
the  whole,  our  few  blunders  proved  rather  benefits  than 
otherwise,  and  therefore  we  all  think  you  ought  to  end 
your  volume  more  cheerfully.'* 


I  at  once  bowed  to  the  justice  of  the  critique,  as  I  must 
do  to  those  sterner  strictures  which  less  partial  reviewers 
may  pass  upon  my  rambling  chapters.  Letting,  therefore, 
the  last  chapter  stand  as  it  is,  I  add  to  it  by  extending 
the  notice  of  our  journey  to  a  "terminus"  nearer  home, 
and  sliall  release  the  reader,  after  a  briefly-stated  contrast 
between  the  most  animated  and  most  desolate  of  all  the 
cities  we  visited  in  our  progress.  With  this  view,  I  select 
London  in  mid-"  Exhibition  time,"  and  Ferrara,  as  it  rises 
on  memory,  in  the  stately  desolation  of  a  city  built  to 
contain  100,000  inhabitants,  whose  population  has  long 
dwindled  down,  and  been  stationary  at  about  one-fourth 
of  that  amount.  Another  reason  for  my  selection  of  Fer- 
rara is,  that  nobody  else  ever  mentions  it  except  to  remark 
"  that  there  is  nothing  here  to  interest  or  detain  you." 

On  our  outward  course  a  powerful  influence  had  ob- 
tained for  us  a  peep  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  in  its  chaotic  or 
chrysalis  state ;  and  ofttimes  afterwards,  as  we  numbered 
the  days  between  the  date  of  our  visit  and  that  fixed  for 
the  grand  opening,  we  often  asked  ourselves,  "  "Will  that 
grub  ever  grow  to  a  butterfly  ?  How  ever  will  that  Babel 
be  reduced  to  order,  or  advance  to  ornament,  within  the 
time  ?"  How  'twas  done  we  know  not ;  we  only  know 
that  Saxon  energy  and  method  had  its  task  completed  at 
the  appointed  period.  The  news  reached  us  at  Rome  in 
due  course,  that  England  had  opened  its  "  World-fair  "  on 
the  day  fixed,  without  mistake  or  disappointment ;  and 
when  we  reached  London  some  months  afterwards,  the 
world  was  still  streaming  up  to  it  as  a  centre,  and  it 
seemed  high-holiday  all  England  over. 

Meanwhile    our   homeward  route   through  Italy  had 

2o 


1 4 

'fl 


386 


GLEAll^INGS  AFTEB  "  GEAND  TOirE"-lSTS. 


brought  us,  in  our  course,  to  Ferrara,  a  stately  city  of  the 
past,  upon  which  the  far-off  glories  of  its  "  D'Este  Lords" 
show  like  a  tarnished  gilding,  scarce  visible  through  the 
dimming  distance.  Tasso's  place  of  duresse  is  there,  and 
a  place  it  is,  to  make  a  man  pause  upon  the  horrid  doubt 
whether  it  had  been  the  cell  of  an  actual  maniac,  or  the 
room  of  torture  chosen  for  the  incarceration  of  a  high- 
soaring  spirit  to  pine  in,  until,  fretted  against  the  prison 
bars,  it  should  chafe  itself  into  madness.  There  is  enough 
of  mystery  in  Tasso's  history,  and  enough  of  cruelty  and 
pride  in  the  annals  of  the  House  of  D'Este,  to  give  room 
for  such  a  speculation. 

But  the  genius  of  Byron,  availing  itself  of  a  mere  hint 
of  Gibbon's,  has,  in  his  painfully-powerful  fragment  of 
"  Parasina,"  invested  the  moated  Castle  of  Eerrara  with  a 
nearer  and  more  living  interest.  Even  though  the  poet 
had  not  left  us,  in  the  account  of  "  Hugo's  "  execution, 
one  of  the  most  thrilling  passages  of  all  his  fine  poetry, 
none  could  have  passed  it  without  going  to  look  on  the 
fatal  court  which,  as  he  tells  us,  once  saw 

"  The  crowd  in  a  speechless  circle  gather, 
To  see  the  son  die  by  the  doom  of  the  father." 

Byron  had  of  course  seen  this  court,  and  seen  how  well  it 
suited  his  purpose,  ere  he  peopled  it  with  the  actors  in  the 
final  scene  of  his  dark  story,  but  he  does  not  allow  our 
whole  interest  to  rest  in  the  court  below.  His  powerful 
painting  urges  us  to  try  and  trace  among  the  ranges  of  the 
palace  windows  that  "lattice"  from  behind  which  the  mi- 
serable adulteress  was  in  refined  cruelty  placed  to  see 


l'envoi.  387 

"  The  evenmg  sunbeams  shed 
Full  on  Hugo's  fated  head, 
Kneeling  at  the  Friar's  knee, 
Sad  to  hear — piteous  to  see — 
How  that  high  sun  on  his  head  did  glisten 
As  he  there  did  bow  and  listen, 
And  the  rings  of  chesnut  hair 
Curl'd  half  down  his  neck  so  bare ; 
But  brighter  still  its  beams  were  thrown 
Upon  the  axe  which  near  him  shone 
With  a  clear  and  ghastly  glitter. 
Oh  I  that  parting  hour  was  bitter." 

One  can  imagine  the  bitterness  of  death  in  such  a  sight 
as  this,  only  to  be  surpassed  when 

"  RoU'd  the  head,  and  gushing  sunk 
Back  the  stain'd  and  heaving  trunk, — 
And  came  a  woman's  shriek, — and  ne'er 
In  madlier  accents  rose  despair : 
And  those  who  heard  it  as  it  past, 
In  mercy  wished  it  were  the  last.'* 

AVith  the  whole  of  this  powerful  and  minutely  painted 
picture  full  in  memory,  in  order  to  make  the  illusion  more 
perfect  we  deferred  our  visit  to  the  scene  of  the  "  Parasina" 
tragedy  until 

"  the  lovely  hour  as  yet, 
Before  the  summer  sun  shall  set ;" 

so  that  it  was  in  the  glowing  evening  that  we  tra- 
versed the  echoing  courts  and  stately  but  desolate  halls  of 
the  Castle  of  Eerriira,  until  at  length  we  arrived  at  a 
saloon  overlooking  the  inner  court,  and  then,  standing  by 
a  "palace  lattice,"  I  asked  the  cicerone  to  point  out  to 
me  the  exact  spot  of  the  execution  in  the  area  below.  I 
had  better  have  left  the  question  unasked,  for  his  reply 

2c2 


388 


GLEAI^Il^GS  AFTEB  "  GBAND  T0UE"-ISTS 


sent  Byron's  whole  description  into  the  regions  of  sham 

and  unreality. 

"You  can  see  the  place  if  you  please,  sir;  but  it  was 
done,  they  say,  in  the  vaults  helow,  and  not  in  the  open 

air  at  all." 

This  is  ever  the  way  with  our  poets  of  the  transcen- 
dental and  romantic  schools ; 

"  in  their  power 
To  double  even  the  sweetness  of  a  flower," 

they  send  us  in  search  of  scenes  which  their  descriptions 
have  graved  on  mind  and  memory  as  a  choice  region  of 
fairyland,— we  arrive  in  breathless  interest,  and  lo !  the 
result  is  as  sobering  as  Sancho's  visit  to  Dulcinea  the 
Peerless,  at  Tobo.so. 

From  the  outside,  the  moat-girdled  Castle  of  Ferrara 
looked  the  scene  of  the  mediaeval  tragedy  admirably ;  but 
as  we  left  its  frowning  portal,  I  could  only  look  back  on 
its  reaUy  fine  feudal  cincture  as  the  scene  of  a  discovered 
imposture  ;  and  therefore  I  recommend  those  who  wish  to 
yield  themselves  to  the  illusion  of  the  poet's  imagery  to 
read  "Parasina,"  and  stay  away  from  Ferrara. 

When  life  ebbs  low,  it  is  known  that  the  heart  will 
sometimes  beat  after  the  extremities  are  cold  ;  thus  there 
was  a  kind  of  stir  and  activity  about  the  Piazza,  which 
might  be  called  the  heart  of  Ferrara,  upon  which  the  old 
Castle  frowned,  and  in  which  the  old  pied  Cathedral  stood ; 
but  this  faint  vitality  died  wholly  away  when  we  had  passed 
into  some  of  the  spacious  but  moss-grown  streets  farther 
off.  We  paid  our  duty  visit  to  a  cold,  cheerless  Gallery  of 
Paintings,  to  which  we  made  our  way  through  long  lines 
of  stately  houses,  with  closed  ''jalousies"   and  barred 


l'envoi. 


889 


portals,  from  which  not  a  sign  of  Hfe  showed  itself,  not 
an  eye  peered  out  on  our  progress  ;  not  a  living  soul  did 
we  encounter,  in  our  long  route  through  the  desert  city, 
save  a  solitary  crone,  weeding  the  street,  who  might  have 
been  a  witch  gathering  simples.  Had  plague  swept  it,  or 
had  war  scourged  it,  Ferrara  could  not  have  been  left 
more  desolate ;  in  loneliness  and  silence  it  was  a  perfect 
"  Pompeii  with  the  roofs  on ;"  or  it  might  be  Hercula- 
neum,  if  we  could  see  it  stripped  of  its  lava  cerements ;  or 
any  other  city  of  the  dead  which  fancy  can  call  up  to  the 
mind's  eye. — I  no  longer  wonder  why  tour-writers  "  see 

nothing  particular  to  remark  on  in  Ferrara." 

I  pass  over  intervening  incidents  of  our  route — some  treated 
of  elsewhere  in  these  chapters — to  come  to  the  period  when 
one  of  the  cheating  advertisements  which  stared  us  out 
of  our  convictions  on  every  blank  wall  from  Cologne  to 
Brussels,  and  which,  in  despite  of  all  experience,  will  some- 
times delude  into  the  belief  that  those  inseparables,  "  cheap 
and  nasty,"  can  be  divorced  from  each  other,  had  induced 
us  to  try  a  passage  from  Ostend  to  Dover,  to  be  performed 
at  some  fabulously  quick  rate  of  going,  for  some  absurdly 
cheap  rate  of  payment.  We  reached  Ostend  by  train,  from 
Brussels,  at  the  hour  indicated  "  in  the  bond,"  and  rushed  to 
the  pier  to  see  our  packet  riding  a  mile  ofi*  at  low-water 
mark,  and  to  receive  the  comfortable  intimation  that  "  there 
could  be  no  start  until  twelve  o'clock  at  night !" 

Until  twelve  o'clock  we  housed  ourselves  at  a  wretched 
pier-head  inn,  and  at  twelve  o'clock  went  on  board,  to  find 
ourselves  among  a  motley  crew  of  "  Exhibitioners,"  to  the 
number  of  forty  or  fifty,  whose  calibre  and  quality  may 
be  judged  by  this  little  significant  fact,  that  the  not  over- 


390 


II 


»» 


GLEANINGS  AFTEK  "  GEAND  TOUE    -IST3. 


abundant  luggage  of  us  three  passengers  far  eiceeded  in 
weight  and  bulk  that  landed  for  all  the  other  passengers  to- 
gether. Some  had  literally  "  no  effects"  of  any  kind,  others 
were  as  lightly  equipped  as  Albert  Smith's  travelling  com- 
panion, who  started  from  Chamouni  for  Milan,  with  no 
other  luggage  than  (as  I  remember)  "  a  pair  of  satin  shoes 
tied  up  in  a  birdcage  1"  How  the  swarthy,  smoking,  obese 
Continentals  around  us  were  to  conform  to  the  decencies 
of  dress  in  London  was  a  problem  towards  the  solution  of 
which  I  have  not  as  yet  made  the  slightest  approximation. 
A  train  waited  on  our  boat,  for  we  were  now  once  more 
in  the  land  of  performatice  waiting  upon  promise.  After  a 
hasty  breakfast  we  were  presently  flj^g  towards  London. 
Arrived  at  the  terminus,  I  commenced  my  practice  of  a 
rule  I  hope  I  shall  henceforth  always  observe,  namely, 
never  to  see  a  foreigner  in  our  land  at  a  loss  without 
offering  him  any  assistance  in  my  power.  I  had  known 
too  lately,  and  too  painfully,  the  "  heart  of  a  stranger" 
in  other  lands,  not  to  feel  what  a  wildering  whirl  the  first 
bustle  of  an  arrival  at  a  London  terminus  must  be  to  a 
Continental.  I  saw  a  large  group  of  my  fellow-passengers 
from  Ostend  standing  in  stupefaction  as  the  London 
cabmen  (engaged  by  the  talismanic  finger)  took  up  their 
fares  and  drove  successively  off!  The  order,  and  yet  the 
bustle — the  rapidity,  and  yet  the  regularity — with  which  all 
was  done,  seemed  in  every  sense  too  much  for  these  "  slow 
coaches ;"  they  saw  all  the  conveyances  engaged  by  some 
occult  process,  unintelligible  to  them,  and  disappearing 
before  they  had  even  hauled  up  from  the  depths  of  stow- 
age in  their  pocket-books,  their  "  Leicester-square"  or 
other  addresses  to  the  localities  in  the  city,  where  "  fo- 
reigners most  do  congregate." 


LENTOI. 


391 


At  last  one  of  them  addressed  me :  "  Sir,  we  were  co^ 
voyageurs  last  night,  pray  pardon  me — we  are  strangers — 
sTiall  we  he  left  here  f  I  There  was  desolation  in  the  very 
tone  of  the  question,  so  I  replied  cheerfully,  "  Oh,  no ; 
that  is  but  the  first  flight — we  shall  have  more  carriages 
presently.  Tou  see  I  have  not  had  one  yet  for  myself  and 
family.     But  where  do  you  wish  to  go  to  ?" 

Here  there  was  a  general  search  for  and  production  of 
old  "hotel"  cards, —  wTitten  "directions," — and  other 
"  memoranda,"  on  faith  of  which  these  poor  fellows  had 
venturously  flung  themselves  on  the  wide  sea  of  London, 
probably  on  the  assurance  that  they  should  "  find  them- 
selves *  all  right'  when  they  had  got  tliere  /" 

These  poor  strangers  were  all  the  same  to  me,  and  with 
my  own  ''Jiardes  et  hagages''  and  those  "  baggages"  my 
daughters,  to  look  after,  I  began  to  find  myself  rather 
overwhelmed.  I  might  direct,  or  set  right  a  few  of  the 
crowd  around  me,  but  I  could  not  well  undertake  for 
all.  In  the  emergency  I  called  to  a  "  railway  policeman" 
near  me. 

"  Here  are  some  foreigners,"  said  I.  "  They  have  all 
got  addresses,  as  it  appears.    How  are  they  to  get  there  ?" 

In  a  moment  the  man  was  among  them,  with  a  polyglot 
power  of  address  to  which  I  had  no  pretension.  I  imme- 
diately saw  that  provision  had  been  made  for  the  emer- 
gency— ^that  they  were  "  all  right  ;'^  things  w^ere  in  proper 
train  for  forwarding  these  helpless  consignments  each  to 
his  destination ;  and  I  turned  away  to  attend  to  my  own 

concerns. 

As  I  went,  however,  one  of  the  foreigners  ran  after  me, 

grasped  my  arm,  and  whispered, 

"  Fardon,    monsieur,    est-ce    que    nous,  pouvons    nous 


392 


a 


i> 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


jier /"    He  indicated  the  rest  by  a  gesture.    "  Could 

they  trust  the  policeman  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  I,  laughing ;  "  when  you  see  the  men  in 
*  blue  coats,'  with  little  blue  sticks*  in  their  hands,  trust 
yourselves  to  them  in  ani/  difficulty,  and  by  all  means." 

*  Lord  Palmerston,  who  (putting  aside  all  his  other  characteristics  of  a 
good  speaker)  has  been  justly  described  as  "  having  always  the  right  word 
to  use  in  the  right  place,"  made  some  time  ago  a  happy  allusion  to  "  the 
surprise  of  foreigners  at  seeing  the  peace  and  order  of  '  The  Great  Exhi- 
bition' preserved  by  a  Jew  men  here  and  therewith  little  hits  of  blue-painted 
stick  in  their  hands."  The  thought  thus  suggested  by  his  Lordship, 
mingling  itself  with  these  reminiscences,  has  taken  shape  as  follows : 


THE   LITTLE   BLUE   STICK. 

To  view  the  "  Old  Island"  the  foreigner  comes, 

Thousands  flock  to  the  pier  his  arrival  to  view; 
He  lands — he  looks  round  for  "  guards,"  "  barriers,"  or  "  drums," 
In  their  stead  he  can  see  but  of  "  blue  coats"  a  few. 

Who  with  all  that  dense  crowd  undemonstrative  mix. 
Their  emblem  of  office  "  small  bltie-painted  sticks." 

"  Sacr^  Dieu"  cries  Crapaud ;  "  Ach  mein  Gott"  puffs  Mynheer ; 

"  Santissima,^*  murmurs  Italia's  swarth  son ;  — 
Such  unenforced  order  they  all  think  so  queer ; 

Of  ^* sbirri"  '■'■gendarmerie"  "  mowcAard!s,"  not  one, 
Yet  no  riot — no  rushing — no  turmoil — no  "  fix," 
But  all  kept  in  order  by — blue-painted  sticks. 

In  London  arrived,  how  our  foreign  guests  stare. 

As  the  dense  living  tides  through  each  thoroughfare  pour. 
When  puzzled  to  find  out  "  street,"  "  circus,"  or  "  square," 
A  1  or  X  10  guide  each  just  to  their  door. 

And  should  "  cabman"  or  *•  swell  mob"  attempt  any  trick, 
They  are  promptly  "  pull'd  up"  by  the  little  blue  stick. 

When  the'Queen  (may  God  bless  her !)  walks  down  through  the  nave 

Of  her  "  Grand  Exhibition,"  the  thousands  all  round. 
Though  impatient  to  see,  stand  decorous  and  grave, 
And  she  leaves  unmolested  by  gesture  or  sound. 

Yet  no  guard  keeps  the  path — where  the  crowd  is  most  thick, 
You  may  see  here  and  there— just  a  blue  coat  and  stick. 


L  ENVOI. 


393 


And  with  this  general  and  parting  advice  we  went  our 
several  ways. 

And  now ! — does  any  one  suppose  that  I  am  about  to 
enter  on  a  description  of  "  The  Exhibition,"  or  any  part 
thereof?  "  Pas  si  bete,  en  verite.''  Among  the  legends  of 
that  stirring  season,  there  is  one  of  some  poor  creature 
who  had  entered  the  Crystal  Palace  among  the  earliest 
visitants,  with  the  insane  idea  that  he  would  go  over  the 
whole  seriatim,  "  beginning  at  the  beginning,"  and  seeing 
everything  in  due  course  and  order.  The  legend  runs, 
that  he  spent  many  weary  days  in  going  round  and  round, 
catalogue  in  hand,  looking  for  No.  1  of  "  Class  the  First," 
most  rigidly  restraining  himself  from  admiring  anything, 
examining  anything,  until  he  could  begin  to  examine  and 
admire  according  to  rule ;  the  conclusion  of  the  story  is, 
that  after  he  had  thus  roamed  the  wilderness  for  a  fort- 
night !  some  pitying  policeman,  having  ascertained  the  state 
of  the  case,  humanely  took  his  catalogue  from  him,  and 
left  him  to  wander  a  harmless  lunatic  among  the  wonders 
of  art  around. 

I  neither  vouch  for  the  story,  nor  do  I  intend  to  fall  into 
any  similar  blunder,  nor  even  to  pretend  to  give  anything 
like  a  general  impression  of  the  effect  of  that  great  display 
of  a  world's  industry  thus  brought  together  in  competition 
in  the  world's  greatest  emporium.  A  few  general  remarks 
are  all  on  which  I  intend  to  venture. 


"  'Tis  magic ! "  all  cry.    Yes — a  magic  unknown 

To  dwellers  in  lands  where  the  sword  settles  strife ; 
Where  Despot  sits  grim  on  a  bayonet-fenced  throne, 
And  on  Autocrat-nod  hangs  fame,  fortune,  or  life. 

'Tis  a  magic  which  few  out  of  Albion  e'er  saw, 
'Tis  the  magic,  of—"  willing  submission  to  law. 


394 


GLEANTNGS  APTEE  "  GEAND  T0T7E    -ISTS. 


The  building  and  the  people  impressed  me  far  more  than 
even  the  wonders  of  art  exhibited.  The  building,  that 
singularly  happy  conception  of  a  simple  unit  idea,  multi' 
pliedj  and  capable  of  indefinite  multiplication,  until  it  gave 
the  required  accommodation,  seemed  to  me  far  more  wonder- 
ful than  even  the  contents  of  its  different  departments. 

And  the  people,  in  their  complete,  and  yet  unturbulent 
abandon  of  enjoyment,  was  by  no  means  the  least  pleas- 
ing part  of  the  whole  display ;  their  good  humour  and 
their  good  behaviour,  their  perfect  independence,  and  yet 
thorough  decorum,  was  a  sight  admirable  to  witness.  There 
was  one  day  during  our  stay  when  at  an  early  hour  some 
hundred  farm-labourers,  sent  up  by  some  kind  employer  in 
a  special  train  (I  heard  they  were  Mr.  Philip  Pusey's 
men  from  Berkshire),  made  their  appearance  in  the  build- 
ing in  all  the  brightness  of  bluff  honest  faces  and  snow- 
white  smock-frocks,  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  hardy, 
healthy,  clean,  and  comfortable.  It  was,  as  I  have  said,  an 
early  hour,  and  the  Queen,  not  having  yet  ended  her 
usual  early  visit,  was  in  one  of  the  galleries  when  this 
apparition  of  some  hundreds  of 

"  that  bold  peasantry,  her  country's  pride," 

showed  itself  in  the  avenues  below ;  whereupon  her 
Majesty,  instead  of  leaving  as  usual  by  a  private  entrance, 
determined  to  go  down  and  pass  out  through  the  ranks 
of  honest  rustics,  thus  affording  them  an  extra  gratifica- 
tion in  being  able  to  tell  for  many  a  day  after,  that  they 
had  seen  many  "foine  things,"  but  "nought  loike  The 
Queen,  God  bless  her !" 


l'envoi. 


395 


It  was  perfectly  beautiful  to  see  the  spontaneous,  un- 
bidden decorum  with  which  these  honest  fellows  ranged 
themselves  into  an  avenue  for  the  passage  of  the  royal 
cortege,  along  the  principal  court  of  the  building ;  there 
was  not  a  sign  of  repression,  nor  of  a  rudeness  to  repress, 
in  the  whole  proceeding,  and  this  fearless  impromptu  going 
down  of  the  Sovereign  into  the  throng,  of  her  subjects,  as 
it  appeared  to  me  then,  was  one  of  the  most  grateful  sights 
of  the  whole  display,  as  it  forms  one  of  its  most  pleasant 
reminiscences  now. 

Our  last  transit  through  the  wonderful  congress  of 
England  and  Europe  which  thronged  up  to  London  in 
1851  was  of  a  kind  to  leave  an  impression  not  easily  to  be 
forgotten. 

I  believe  in  general  the  high  flood-tide  of  visitors  to  the 
Exhibition  legan  to  flow  about  two  o'clock  in  the  day ; 
then  men  of  business  were  gradually  disengaged,  and  could 
join  their  families  by  appointment  for  the  daily  visit ;  by 
this  time  country  parties  from  the  suburbs,  and  more  dis- 
tant localities,  began  to  arrive  to  swell  the  flood,  which  con- 
tinued to  pour  in  an  unbroken  stream  to  one  point,  where, 
indeed,  the  arranging  power  of  the  police  was  sorely  and 
constantly  tasked  to  prevent  chaos  from  coming  again. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  a  glowing  June  afternoon 
that  we  left  our  lodgings  in  the  Belgravian  quarter  for  the 
"  Great  Western"  terminus,  and  when  we  looked  up  the  de- 
houche  by  the  Marble  Arch,  at  Hyde  Park-corner,  the  sight 
was  indeed  one  calculated  to  impress  native  and  foreigner 
alike  with  wonder.  In  one  steady  stream,  never  staying, 
never  rushing,  in  every  variety  of  conveyance,  from  the 


396 


tc 


J1 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GRAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


great  field  waggon,  outrigged  into  a  monster  caravan  for 
the  day,  down  to  the  costermonger's  cart  (the  said  coster- 
monger  occupant  enjoying  his  holiday  and  asserting  his 
unit-independence  as  thoroughly  as  the  highest,  proudest, 
fairest  there),  so  the  full  tide  of  life  streamed  on  in  its 
direction ;  and  for  near  an  hour  our  progress  in  a  con- 
trary one  was  slow  enough,  and  yet  we  did  not  feel  it 
tiresome,  for  there  was  occupation  for  observation,  reflec- 
tion, admiration  all  around  us,  and  we  were  scarcely  glad 
when  an  opening  enabled  our  driver  to  get  free  of  the 
main  current,  and  to  leave  Piccadilly  and  its  living  torrent 
behind  us. 

•  •••** 

There  is  something  delightful  in  contrasts,  and  if  that 
between  London  and  Ferrara  was  marked,  1  fell  upon  one 
not  less  so  in  another  direction,  when,  in  a  week  after  we 
had  been  stemming  the  living  surges  of  London  life,  I 
stood  inhaling  the  bracing  air  and  freshening  breeze  of 
one  of  those  glens  of  Southern  Ireland  of  which  JVIr. 
Macaulay  has  given  so  glowing  a  description  in  his  lately 
published  volumes  of  the  History  of  England ;  there, 
"beneath  crags  where  the  eagles  build,"  by  "mingling 
rivulets  brawling  down  the  rocky  pass,"  and  with  a  mag- 
nificent mountain  range  overlooking  all,  I  stood  alone, 
amidst  all  the  "salvage  majesty  of  uncultivated  nature," 
to  review,  as  I  could  recal  them,  the  circumstances  and 
incidents  of  the  extended  tour  just  successfully  accom- 
plished. Such  an  excursion  forms  an  event  in  the  life  of  a 
quiet  family  not  to  be  soon  forgotten.  The  classic  associa- 
tions, historic  reminiscences,  scenes  of  beauty,  treasures  of 


l'enyoi. 


397 


art,  although  sometimes  mingling  and  confusing  in  the  me- 
mory, still  continue  to  furnish  subjects  of  pleasant  recol- 
lection and  fireside  description  long  after  the  first  fresh- 
ness of  enjoyment  and  wonder  have  passed  away.  But  I 
feel  bound  thankfully  to  acknowledge  that  these  "  sunny 
memories,"  when  brightest  and  most  glowing,  have  never 
dazzled  or  destroyed  perception  of  the  truth  of  the  simple 
ballad  which  tells  us  that 

"  Be  it  never  sae  hamely, 
There's  nae  place  like  hame." 

And  in  the  same  proportion  that  I  pity  the  man  whose 
spirit  chafes  against  circumstance,  and  pines  for  change 
from  the  place  where,  in  the  orderings  of  Providence, 
"  the  lines  are  fallen  to  him,"  so  do  I  feel  thankful  for  the 
measure  in  which  it  is  given  me  to  acquiesce  in  the  senti- 
ments of  that  "  Traveller"  who  says — 

"  Such  is  the  Patriot's  boast;  where'er  he  roam, 
His  first  best  country  ever  is  at  home, 
And  dear  the  shed  to  which  his  soul  conforms, 
And  dear  the  hill  which  lifts  him  to  the  storms;"— 

in  the  full  feeling  of  which  I  greeted  "wy  own''  mountain 
glen  in  the  stanzas  in  which  I  now  take  my  respectful 
leave  of  my  readers,  and  submit  my  "  Gleanings"  to  their 
indulgent  perusal : 


ON  REVISITING  GLEN  A- 


There's  a  deep  joy  I  cannot  speak 

Springs  up  within  me  as  again 
Thy  free  breeze  freshens  on  my  cheek, 

My  own  wild,  lonesome  mountain  glen. 
Thy  river  sends  its  gentle  brawl. 

Like  uttered  friend-words,  to  the  ear, 
And  from  the  hoarse-voiced  waterfall 

Something  like  welcoming  I  hear. 


^ 


396 


li 


n 


GLEANINGS  AFTEE  "  GEAND  TOUE    -ISTS. 


L  ENVOI. 


397 


great  field  waggon,  outrigged  into  a  monster  caravan  for 
the  day,  down  to  the  costermonger's  cart  (the  said  coster- 
monger  occupant  enjoying  his  holiday  and  asserting  his 
unit-independence  as  thoroughly  as  the  highest,  proudest, 
fairest  there),  so  the  full  tide  of  life  streamed  on  in  its 
direction;  and  for  near  an  hour  our  progress  in  a  con- 
trary one  was  slow  enough,  and  yet  we  did  not  feel  it 
tiresome,  for  there  was  occupation  for  observation,  reflec- 
tion, admiration  all  around  us,  and  we  were  scarcely  glad 
when  an  opening  enabled  our  driver  to  get  free  of  the 
main  current,  and  to  leave  Piccadilly  and  its  living  torrent 
behind  us. 

There  is  something  delightful  in  contrasts,  and  if  that 
between  London  and  Eerrara  was  marked,  I  fell  upon  one 
not  less  so  in  another  direction,  when,  in  a  week  after  we 
had  been  stemming  the  living  surges  of  London  life,  I 
stood  inhaling  the  bracing  air  and  freshening  breeze  of 
one  of  those  glens  of  Southern  Ireland  of  which  Mr. 
Macaulay  has  given  so  glowing  a  description  in  his  lately 
published  volumes  of  the  History  of  England ;  there, 
"beneath  crags  where  the  eagles  build,"  by  "mingling 
rivulets  brawling  down  the  rocky  pass,"  and  with  a  mag- 
nificent mountain  range  overlooking  all,  I  stood  alone, 
amidst  all  the  "  salvage  majesty  of  uncultivated  nature," 
to  review,  as  I  could  recal  them,  the  circumstances  and 
incidents  of  the  extended  tour  just  successfully  accom- 
plished. Such  an  excursion  forms  an  event  in  the  life  of  a 
quiet  family  not  to  be  soon  forgotten.  The  classic  associa- 
tions, historic  reminiscences,  scenes  of  beauty,  treasures  of 


art,  although  sometimes  mingling  and  confusing  in  the  me- 
mory, still  continue  to  furnish  subjects  of  pleasant  recol- 
lection and  fireside  description  long  after  the  first  fresh- 
ness of  enjoyment  and  wonder  have  passed  away.  But  I 
feel  bound  thankfully  to  acknowledge  that  these  "  sunny 
memories,"  when  brightest  and  most  glowing,  have  never 
dazzled  or  destroyed  perception  of  the  truth  of  the  simple 
ballad  which  tells  us  that 

"  Be  it  never  sae  hamely, 
There's  nae  place  like  hame." 

And  in  the  same  proportion  that  I  pity  the  man  whose 
spirit  chafes  against  circumstance,  and  pines  for  change 
from  the  place  where,  in  the  orderings  of  Providence, 
"  the  lines  are  fallen  to  him,"  so  do  I  feel  thankful  for  the 
measure  in  which  it  is  given  me  to  acquiesce  in  the  senti- 
ments of  that  "  Traveller"  who  says — 

"  Such  is  the  Patriot's  boast;  where'er  he  roam, 
His  first  best  country  ever  is  at  home, 
And  dear  the  shed  to  which  his  soul  conforms, 
And  dear  the  hill  which  lifts  him  to  the  storms;"— 

in  the  full  feeling  of  which  I  greeted  "wy  oW  mountain 
glen  in  the  stanzas  in  which  I  now  take  my  respectful 
leave  of  my  readers,  and  submit  my  "  Gleanings"  to  their 
indulgent  perusal : 


ON  REVISITING  GLEN  A- 


There's  a  deep  joy  I  cannot  speak 

Springs  up  within  me  as  again 
Thy  free  breeze  freshens  on  my  cheek, 

My  own  wild,  lonesome  mountain  glen. 
Thy  river  sends  its  gentle  brawl, 

Like  uttered  friend-words,  to  the  ear, 
And  from  the  hoarse-voiced  waterfall 

Something  like  welcoming  I  hear. 


;f 


398 


GLEANINGS  AFTER  "  GEAND  T0UE"-ISTS. 


Old  rugged  mountam  range !  once  more 

I  hail  your  furrow'd  friendly  face ; 
True,  since  our  communing  before, 

I've  looked  on  many  a  foreign  grace — 
Graces  which  men,  they  say,  have  found 

Their  truant  hearts  from  home- tie  stealing; 
Yet  all  I  saw  on  foreign  ground 

Could  not  supplant  one  homestead  feeling. 

I  saw  the  vine-clad  hills  of  France, 

I  climbed  the  steep  Vesuvian  mount, 
Then  laid  me  down  in  classic  trance 

By  Numa's  nymph-named  Roman  fount. 
The  southern  sunbeam  warmly  fell 

On  classic  plain,  on  hills  of  vine ; 
I  loved  its  glow,  yet  would  not  dwell 

Away  from  this  wild  glen  of  mine. 

What  tie  is  this — so  strong — so  strange — 

Which  distance  strengthens— space  can't  part  ? — 
A  "  length'ning  chain"  where'er  we  range, 

Linking  mute  nature  and  man's  heart ; 
A  chain  which  gold  nor  makes,  nor  buys. 

Which  holds  through  want,  can  time  withstand— 
What  is  it?     All  the  magic  lies 

In  three  short  words — Our  Natht;  Land. 


APPENDIX. 


(No.  I.,  p.  10.) 

"  II  Padre  Gesuiia"  and  I  were  one  day  busy  over  some  lapi- 
darian  inscriptions  and  other  Catacomb  curiosities  in  the  museum 
of  the  "  Collegio,"  when,  going  to  a  cabinet  of  choice  rarities,  he 
produced  to  me  a  small  broken  vessel  of  thick  glass,  into  the 
material  of  which,  in  the  making,  several  figures  and  designs  in 
gold  had  been  introduced,  so  that,  in  looking  through  it,  the 
figures  showed  like  a  picture.  I  know  not  whether  the  process 
of  doing  this  is  among  the  lost  arts,  or  one  difficult  to  execute, 
but  it  struck  me  as  very  curious ;  nor  do  I  recollect  ever  to  have 
seen  such  a  thing  elsewhere,  though  it  may  be  simple  and  common 
for  what  I  know. 

"This,"  said  the  Padre,  "is  the  fragment  of  a  sacramental 
vessel  of  the  Primitive  Church,  found  in  the  Catacombs.  All 
these  figures  are  exquisitely  wrought  and  highly  symbolical. 
Observe,"  he  said,  "the  Apostles  in  the  boat,  with  Peter  at 
their  head,  and  the  Saviour  walking  on  the  waters.  And  there," 
pointing  to  a  man  holding  a  fish  in  his  hand,  "there  stands  Tobit!^* 
Here,  thinking  Tobit  an  unlikely  symbol  for  a  sacramental  vessel 
under  the  "  new  dispensation,"  I  ventured  to  suggest  that  it  was 
more  probably  Peter,  bringing  the  fish  to  pay  tribute  for  his 
master  and  himself  (as  recorded  in  Matt.  xvii.  27).  "  Pardon, 
Signor,"  he  rejoined,  in  the  symbolic  language  of  the  Church, 
"  Peter  is  ever  designed  as  grave  and  reverend,  as  becomes  '  the 


400 


APPENDIX. 


Prince  of  the  Apostles;*   this,  you  observe,  is  a  youth  {' gio- 

vinetto ')." 

"But,"  I  returned  again,  "at  the  time  when  that  vessel  was 
supposed  to  be  made,  Tobit  did  not  reckon  in  the  canon  of  Scrip- 
ture ;  and  it  is  not  likely  a  personage  from  an  apocryphal  book 
would  be  introduced  into  such  an  assemblage." 

"  Pardon  again,"  he  said,  "  Tobit  is  canonical  once  and  for 


11 


ever. 

"  Not  until  Trent,"  I  returned.     "  Your  own  Jerome  treats  it 
and  its  fellow-books  very  lightly  as  authority." 

"No,  no,"  he  said,  decidedly  but  good-humouredly,  as  of  a  point 
that  admitted  no  argument  whatever. 

I  did  not  reply  at  the  time,  but  when  I  next  visited  the  college 
brought  witli  me  a  small  choice  copy  of  the  Vulgate  having 
Jerome's  prefaces,  and  taking  an  opportunity  to  refer  to  our  con- 
versation of  the  day  before,  showed  him  that  passage  *  in  which 
the  great  "Vulgate"  authority  speaks  of  the  Apocryphal  Books 
with  at  least  as  strong  rejection  as  any  Protestant.  The  Padre 
took  the  book,  examined  it  attentively,  particularly  the  title-page, 
and  having  read  the  passage,  returned  it  without  a  word ;  but  I 
heard  him  sigh  deeply  as  he  turned  to  examine  some  of  the  articles 
in  the  case  near  at  hand.  Except  a  few  words,  during  an  after- 
visit  to  the  Catacombs,  nothing  further  in  the  way  of  discussion  ever 
passed  between  us ;  but  on  the  subject  of  antiquities  and  "  ogetti 
interessantV  I  found  him  uniformly  intelligent,  communicative, 
and  obliging. 

(No.  II.,  p.  54.) 

Having  spoken  of  Eustace  as  "  the  tolerant,"  to  which  I  might 
justly  add  the  epithets  "  refined  and  amiable,"  I  fear  I  must  lay 

*  "  Hie  prologus,  Scripturarum  quasi  galeatum  principium  omnibus 
libris  quos  de  Hebrseo  vertimus  in  Latinum  convenere  potest,  ut  scire 
valeamibs,  quidquid  extra  hos  est,  inter  Apocrypha  esse  ponendum.  Igitur 
Sapientia,  quae  vulgo  Salomonis  inscribitur,  et  Jesu  fil :  Syrach,  Liber  et 
Judith,  et  Tobias,  et  Pastor,  non  sunt  in  Canone."— Hieronimi,  Pro- 
logus  Galeatus  in  Bib,  Sacr,  Vvlgata. 


APPENDIX. 


401 


to  his  charge,  and  to  that  of  individual  Roman  Catholics  like- 
minded  with  him,  the  spread  of  a  delusion  which  prevailed  in 
these  countries  some  years  since,  and  under  the  influence  of  which 
many  people  gladly  believed  that  an  amelioration  and  better  ap- 
preciation of  the  principles  of  "  civil  and  religious  liberty"  had 
passed  upon  the  spirit  of  the  Roman  Church.  It  was  generally 
argued,  but  more  charitably  than  correctly,  that  the  Church  of 
such  men  as  Eustace  could  not  be  the  truculent  oppressor,  for 
which  ?^//m-Protestants  proclaimed  it ;  and  it  was  supposed  that 
the  fiery  ordeal  of  the  last  half -century,  purging  away  many  as- 
perities, and  giving  the  Papacy  to  know  the  "  heart  of  a  stranger," 
had  taught  it  a  measure  of  toleration  accordingly.  This  was  a 
pleasant  dream  into  which  men  fell,  and  from  which  they  are 
now  in  course  of  being  somewhat  roughly  awakened ;  and  indeed, 
to  do  the  Papacy  justice,  it  has  been  for  some  time,  especially 
since  Pio  Nono's  accession,  doing  its  own  part  to  dispel  the  de- 
lusion, for  it  has  been  exhibiting  itself  to  the  world  as  unchanged 
and  unchangeable,  untaught  by  adversity,  unconquered  by  con- 
cession, inflexible  in  purpose,  and  as  determined  on  the  subjuga- 
tion of  intellect  and  human  freedom  of  thought,  as  in  the  days  of 
Hildebrand ;  whether  in  "  open  Concordat"  or  "  secret  allocution," 
every  *' pronu7iciamento'*  of  Popery  speaks  this  purpose.  As  for 
"Eustace,"  once  held  forth  as  "  The  Model  Man,"  of  refined,  cul- 
tivated, and  corrected  Catholicism,  he  is  now  spoken  of  at  Rome 
as  little  better  than  "  heretical ;"  and  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  his  "  Classical  Tour "  may  expect,  sooner  or  later,  to  be 
honoured  by  an  insertion  in  "  The  Index !  "  whenever  Pio  Nono 
has  leisure  to  attend  to  the  "  detestable  liberality"  of  some  of  his 
sentiments,  and  the  atrocious  freedom  of  some  of  his  strictures 
upon  patent  abuses  and  follies,  at  Rome  and  elsewhere.  If  there 
were  nothing  else  to  ensure  his  proscription,  the  freedom  with 
which  he  canvasses,  or  rather  condemns  the  lying  wonders  selected 
to  sentinel  the  high  altar  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  and  the  candour 
with  which  he  avows  his  disbelief  of  the  miraculous  liquefaction 
of  the  blood  of  St.  Januarius  at  Naples,  these  in  themselves  must, 
when  submitted  to  an  ultramontane  tribunal,  ensure  Eustace's 
conviction  as  a  setter  forth  of  "heresies,"  "most  tolerable  and  not 
to  be  endured." 

2d 


I  i 

i 


402 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


403 


'I 


(No.  in.,  p.  88.) 

I  have  sometimes  met  with  writers  pretending  to  speak  from 
observation  of  the  morals  of  Italy  in  a  style  provocative  of  the 
question,  "  Sister,  sister,  where  did  you  find  that  bodkin  ?"  Such 
men  as  Byron,  as  licentious  in  practice  as  in  principle,  and  accus- 
tomed to  talk  with  perhaps  even  more  than  his  usual  licence  in 
bravado  of  that  world  "  which  had  outlawed  him,"  might,  without 
inconsistency,  make  disclosures  on  such  topics ;  but  how  others 
have  done  so  has  sometimes  surprised  me.  Now,  I  neither  have, 
nor  can  pretend  to,  any  information  whatever  as  to  that  dissolute- 
ness which  is  said  to  stalk  abroad  through  Italy,  audacious  and 
unveiled ;  on  the  contrary,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  I  am  bound 
to  give  my  testimony  that  neither  indecorum  nor  indecency  vrill 
anvwhere  offend  the  stranger,  unless  he  seeks  them ;  and  if  he 
does,  surely  he  is  "  less  sinned  against  than  sinning." 

I  have  spoken  of  one  or  two  exceptions ;  Naples  presented  one, 
Rome  the  other.  In  Naples  you  cannot  walk  the  streets  (no 
lady  ever  does)  without  having  at  intervals  the  language  of  the 
pandar  whispered  ia  your  ear !  You  turn  your  head,  and  see  at 
your  elbow  a  grave,  respectable-looking  personage,  who  might 
pass  for  a  member  of  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice, 
were  it  not  for  the  indescribably  loathsome  smile  with  which  he 
meets  your  look  of  surprise  or  indignation. 

The  other  circumstance  wliich  caught  my  attention  at  Rome 
was  occasionally  seeing  two  persons  together,  so  obviously  un- 
suited  in  rank  or  manners  as  to  attract  observation.  These  were 
a  young  woman,  holding,  rather  than  walking  with,  an  elder,  who 
perfectly  embodied  the  conception  of  the  Duenna  of  old  Spanish 
comedy.  I  was  at  last  led  to  ask  an  Italian  teacher  who  attended 
in  the  family  the  meaning  of  this,  and  his  explanation  was  to  the 
following  effect : — "  You  English  bring  your  Island  manners  with 
you  wherever  you  go,  and  hence  your  *  signorine^  can  walk  alone, 
or  in  company,  as  they  please,  without  molestation ;  but  no  Roman 
female  can  do  so  with  impunity.  Those  persons  you  notice  are 
Roman  women  of  the  middle  ranks ;  they  cannot  afford  an  equi- 
page, their  husbands  are  engaged  in  their  avocations,  their  busi- 


ness takes  them  out,  and  their  only  protection  from  insult  is  to 
hold  the  arm  of  an  old  nurse  or  other  domestic,  which  indicates 
that  they  are  not  subjects  for  solicitation  to  the  libertines  of  the 
city."  It  would  be  very  unfair  and  unfit  to  quote  the  general 
assertions  freely  made  by  the  shopocraci/  of  Rome  as  to  the  state 
of  priestly  morals ;  they  may  not  be  true ;  they  may  be  the  sug- 
gestions of  that  political  dislike  to  priestly  rule  which  is  universal ; 
they  may  be  of  no  value  as  evidence,  yet  they  are  confided  to 
English  ears  with  an  unsolicited  freedom,  which  provokes  the 
question.  How  long  can  blind  reverence  for  an  order  survive  this 
keen  sense  of  individual  depravity  ? 

(No.  IV.,  p.  105.) 

Conyers  Middleton,  in  his  celebrated  "Letter  from  Rome,'* 
seems  to  have  allowed  himself  to  be  led  away  by  similarity  of 
sound  into  supposing  that  heathen  Soracte  had  been  christianised 
into  S.  Oreste,  and  his  error  has  been  generally  adopted,  if,  indeed, 
it  was  not  of  earlier  date ;  for  BoUandus,  in  the  "  Acta  Sanctorum," 
speaks  of  a  "laudatum  opusculum"  of  a  certain  "Antonius  de 
Effectis,"  in  which  it  is  argued  that  S.  Oreste  is  the  right  name  of 
the  mountain,  "  non  tamen  deductum  ah  aliquo  Sancto  Oreste,  sed  a 
svperstitionibus  Gentilium."  In  fact,  it  appears  that  though  there 
was  an  obscure  and  seldom  mentioned  martyr  named  Orestes, 
affirmed  by  Baillet  and  others  to  have  been  "  grilled  to  death"  in 
Lesser  Armenia,  yet  he  never  had  any  connexion  with  the  cele- 
brated Horatian  mount,  and  that  the  proper  alias  for  Soracte  is 
"  St.  Silvester ;"  for  other  legendary  authorities  tell  us  that  it 
was  Charlemagne,  who,  taking  in  his  latter  years  the  monastic  habit 
from  the  hands  of  Pope  Zachary,  retired  to  Mount  Soracte,  and 
there  built  a  monastery  in  honour  of  Pope  Sylvester,  after  whom 
the  Mount  is  now  sometimes  named. 

Our  route  brought  us  sufficiently  close  to  Soracte  to  enable  us 
to  admire  its  picturesque  outline,  but  not  near  enough  to  allow  of 
our  examining  the  structure  of  that  singular  rock,  obviously  of 
igneous  origin,  which  has  stood  up  in  isolated  protrusion  from  the 
subjacent  level  from  before  the  historic  era. 

2d2 


404 


APPENDIX. 


Durmg  a  day,  or  rather  a  few  hours  of  a  day,  of  our  stay  in 
Rome,  a  snow-storm  enabled  me  to  realise  unexpectedly  Horace's 

*'  Vides  ut  alta  stet  nive  candidum 
Soracte." 

I  could  catch  the  pinnacle  glittering  in  the  morning  sunshine  from 
the  walks  of  the  Pincian,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  when  I  skirted 
it  afterwards,  it  was  with  Horace  in  hand,  and  I  did  homage  to 
the  classic  mount  in  an  attempted  version  of  the  poet's  midwinter 
Ode  on  this  theme.  I  say  "midwinter"  rather  than  "Christ- 
mas"  advisedly,  for  though  there  be  something  of  the  cheery  spirit 
of  Christmas  frolic  and  merriment  breathing  through  the  Ode,  yet 
it  not  merely  lacks  any  Christian  reminiscence  of  that  season, 

"  Which  to  the  cottage  as  the  crown, 
Brought  tidings  of  salvation  down," 

but  it  is  also  too  largely  redolent  of  the  sensual  epicureanism 
which,  tainting  the  mind  of  the  writer,  gives  so  painful  and  un- 
pleasant an  effect  to  some  of  the  most  refined  and  admired  produc- 
tions of  this  charming  classic,  in  which  we  can  seldom  read  an  ode 
to  the  end  without  finding  the  "  amari  aliquid"  rising  up,  and 
proving  that  even  when  the  elegant  sensualist  attained  to  an 
ennobling  or  unexceptionable  sentiment,  he  was  still  ignorant  of 
any  true  consistent  moral  basis,  or  connexion,  in  which  the  truth 
on  which  he  might  have  stumbled  could  inhere ;  hence  the  freedom 
of  translating  Horace  is  continually  cramped  by  the  necessity  of 
trying  to  reduce  some  sentiment  or  expression  within  the  bounds 
of  presentable  propriety. 

"  Vides  ut  alta  stet  nive  candidum 
Soracte — nee  jam  sustineant  onus 
SilvaB  laborantes,  geluque 

Flumina  constiterint  acute 

Dissolve  frigus,  ligna  super  foco 

Large  reponens,  atque  benignius 

Deprome  quadrimum  sabin^. 

O  Thaliarche  merum  diota, 


I 


APPENDIX. 


405 


Permitte  Divis  caetera,  qui  simul 
Stravere  ventos  sBquore  fervido 
Depraeliantes,  nee  cupressi 

Nee  veteres  agitantur  omi 
Quid  sit  futurum  eras,  fuge  quaerere,  et 
Quern  fors  dierum  cumque  dabit,  lucro 
Appone,  nee  dulces  amores 

Speme,  puer, — neque  tu  choreas 
Donee  virenti  canities  abest 
Morosa.    Nunc  et  campus  et  areas 
Lenesque  sub  noctem  susurri, 

Composita  repetantur  hora, 
Nunc  et  latentis  proditor  intimo 
Gratus  puellae  risus  ab  angulo 
Pignus  qui  direptum  lacertis 

Aut  digito  male  pertinaci." 

HoBACE,  lib.  i.  ode  ix. 


Soracte's  brow  stands  white — the  snow 
Bends  the  o'erladen  trees  to  earth — 
The  ice-bound  streams  forget  to  flow : 
'Then  with  piled  fagots  warm  thine  hearth, 
Nor  stint  thy  draught  of  generous  wine — 
Nor  be  it  present  care  of  thine 
To  what  the  coming  year  gives  birth. 
Let  Gods,  who  still  the  warring  wind, 
The  waving  woods,  the  surging  sea, 
Dispose  thy  future — now  they're  kind — 
Ask  not  what  may  to-morrow  be. 
In  park,  at  dance,  in  games  appear, 
Or  whisper  in  some  lov'd  one's  ear. 
Youth's  season  should  not  joyless  flee, 
Too  surely  crabb'd  age  waits  behind. 
Even  now  rings  forth  from  yonder  nook 
The  tell-tale  laugh  of  romping  girls, 
Who  think  ere  this  you  should  have  took 
Some  "  forfeit-pledge"  of  rings  or  pearls. 


R. 


M)Q 


APPE2fJ)IX. 


APPENDIX. 


407 


(No.  v.,  p.  129.) 

I  shall  not  enter  upon  the  difficult  and  useless  question,  at  once 
"  vexata"  and  vexatious  /  of  the  propriety  or  impropriety  of  public 
exhibitions  of  undraped  sculpture,  further  than  to  observe  that 
there  seems  to  me  no  medium  between  absolute  iconoclasm  and 
leaving  art  free  to  carry  out  its  conceptions,  and  the  mind  and 
taste  to  admire  those  conceptions,  without  having  the  attention 
directed  to  hinted  improprieties,  made  the  more  noticeable  by 
imperfect  and  afterthought  attempts  to  hide  them.     Nobody,  we 
are  sure,  thinks  more  highly  of  the  delicacy  or  purity  of  that 
American  young  lady  who  thought  it  necessary  to  put  the  legs  of 
her  pianoforte  into  muslin  trousers ;  and  every  such  attempt — 
from  the  days  of  the  fourth  Paul,   wlio  constituted  Volterra 
breeches-maker !  ("  hrachettone")  to  Michael  Angelo,  to  the  Nitith 
Pius,  who  has  spoilt  Canova's  "  Stuart  monument" — rather  im- 
pairs than  improves  our  conviction  of  the  mental  purity  or  pro- 
priety of  the  fastidious  corrector.     The  great-minded  Buonarotti 
bluntly  told  his  prude  Pope,  that  "  if  he  would  reform  the  living 
world,  the  nudities  of  his  '  Last  Judgment'  would  do  little  harm 
to  morals."    This  was  all  the  freedom  he  could  use  towards  the 
Papal  throne,  but  upon  the  whisperer  "  behind  the  throne"  (Biaggio 
of  Sienna),  at  whose  suggestion  Paul  was  induced  to   meddle 
with  the  painter's  great  work,  he  revenged  himself  in  a  piece  of 
biting  and  terrific  satire,  which  must  be  seen  to  be  fully  under- 
stood, and  which  has  "damned  the  hyper-reformer  to  everlasting 
fame,"  in  a  punishment  proportioned  and  appropriate  to  his  folly. 
Let  any  one  who  visits  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  stands  before  Mi- 
chael Angelo's  great  fresco,  stitdi/  the  design  of  the  "  Midas-eared 
figure"  placed  in  the  riglit-hand  comer  of  the  lowest  circle  of  the 
Inferno,  and  the  point  and  power  of  the  indignant  artist's  satire 
will  at  once  be  perceived,  though  described  it  cannot  be. 

As  to  Pio  Nono's  fit  of  prudery,  in  which  he  draped  and  dis- 
figured Canova's  work,  whether  it  was  brought  on  by  his  own 
unprompted  will,  or  owing  to  some  whisperer  behind  his  chair,  I 
take  leave  to  record  my  sense  of  his  services  to  the  cause  of  deli- 
cacy or  morality  as  below.  "  Malo  cum  Platone'^ — I  had  rather  err 
with  Michael  Angelo  than  be  "  proper"  with  Pio  Nono. 


ON   SEEING   CANOVA  S   FIGURES   ON   THE    STUART   MONUMENT   IN 

ST.  Peter's  put  into  drapery. 

Some  natures  in  themselves  unclean, 
Touching  God's  word  with  hand'obscene, 

Will  thence  draw  thoughts  impure; 
In  Heaven  itself,  such  souls  would  find 
Nor  place,  nor  pleasure, Uo  their  mind — 

Vicious  beyond  all  cure. 

0*er  Kings  extinct,  on  either  hand 

Canova's  chaste  conceptions  stand 

In  purest  pity  viewed ; 

Till  bronze  robes  make  (they  hide  not)  shame, 

While  loud  the  prurience  they  proclaim 

Of  Plus,  Pope,  and — prude! 

E. 

(No.  YI.,  p.  135.) 

The  fearfully  impressive  "  word-Picture"  in  which  Suetonius  re- 
cords the  miserable  end  of  the  persecutor  Nero  is  well  known ; 
even  in  a  translation  we  do  not  quite  lose  the  power  and  effect  of 
a  description  which  actually  shows  us  the  "  darkness  visible"  of 
that  last  terrible  night  of  the  tyrant,  when 

"  on  the  bare  earth  exposed  he  lies, 
With  not  a  friend  to  close  his  eyes ;" 

and  I  must  record  a  little  incident  of  the  dim  far'^ff  event,  which 
came  under  my  observation  in  the  same  unexpected  manner  in 
which  one  continually  finds  himself  brought  face  to  face  with  mat- 
ters of  remote  antiquity,  while  stumbling  among 

"  the  chief  relics  of  Imperial  Rome." 

One  day  I  was  poring  over  some  Catacomb  inscriptions  in  the 
cloisters  of  the  Benedictine  monastery  annexed  to  the  "  Basilica 
of  S.  Paiilo  fuori  le  Mure,"  when,  among  other  tablets  with  which 
the  wall  was  studded,  I  observed  the  following : 


HOC  SPECVS  EXCEPIT  POST  AVREA  TECTA 

NEEONEM  :  NAM  VIWM  INFEENIS 

SE  SEPELIEI  TIMET. 


408 


APPENDIX, 


/ 


In  fact,  I  bad  stumbled  upon  tbe  real,  orforgedj  epitapb  of  tbe 
tyrant  Nero,  wbich  was  voucbed  by  anotbcr  inscription  under- 
neatb,  purporting  to  give  an  account  of  its  discovery,  to  tbis 
effect : 

"  Reperta,  prope  Anienem,  inter  Salara  et  Nomentanam  in  suburbano 
Phaontis  liberti,  nunc  la  Supvtara ;  centum  fere  abbinc  annis  Nazanem 
avecta,  donee  Romam,  mensis  Octobris  anno  mdcclvi.** 

Tbe  allusion  in  tbe  epitapb  is  explained  by  a  passage  in  Suetonius, 
descriptive  of  tbe  confusion,  terror,  and  borror  of  tbe  last  bours  of 
tbis  model  persecutor.  After  telling  of  bis  basty  and  sbameful 
fligbt  in  tbe  direction  of  Pbaon's  villa,  vaguely  described  as  lying 
between  tbe  " Forla  Salara"  and  "Porta  Nomentana"  (now 
"  Porta  Pia  "),  the  bistorian  goes  on  to  say : 

"  ut  ad  diverticulum  ventum  est,  demissis  equis,  inter  fruticeta,  ac 
vepres,  per  arundineti  semitam  a?gre,  nee  nisi  strata  sub  pedibus  veste, 
ad  adversum  villae  parietem  evasit.  Ibi  hortanti  eodem  Phaonti,  ut 
interim,  in  specum  egest^  harenjb  concederet,  negavit  se  vtvum  sub 


APPENDIX. 


409 


TEKRAM  rrURUM. 


»> 


Tbis  proposal  to  take  refuge  in  the  "  arenaria" — the  Catacombs  ! 
— must  have  caused  the  soul  of  him  whose  hoarse  roar  of  "  Chris- 
tianos  ad  leones"  bad  so  often  driven  tbe  persecuted  to  tbe  same 
refuge,  to  recoil  in  dread  and  borror.  Had  he  followed  this 
counsel — had  bt;  fled  to  the  sand-pits,  and  found  there  tbe  per- 
secuted remnant  who  were  cowering  from  bis  persecutions — and 
had  they  (as  we  should  hope  they  would  have  found  grace  to  do) 
acted  on  their  divine  rule,  "if  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him,  if  he 
thirst,  give  him  drink" — what  an  incident  it  would  have  formed 
in  the  history  of  primitive  Cliristianity  !  But  Nero's  day  of  grace 
was  past,  and  he  must  die  as  be  bad  lived. 

There  is  much  confusion  as  to  the  supposed  locality  of  Nero's 
sepulture.  Some  place  it  at  or  near  the  site  of  the  church  of 
"Santa  Maria,"  close  to  the  "Porto  del  Popolo,"  and  pretend 
that  tbe  church  was  built  to  "  scare  away  sprites  and  phantoms, 
which  used  to  flit  round  the  dead  tyrant's  grave,  and  fright  the 
faithful  from  the  neighbourhood;"  others  have  supposed  some 
connexion  between  Nero's  tomb  and  tbe  curious  and  undoubtedly 


ancient  piece  of  reticulated  brickwork  called  the  "Mnro  Torto" 
at  some  little  distance ;  while  the  note  to  tbe  monumental  slab 
which  I  have  copied  would  place  it  farther  off  still,  and  nearer 
to  tbe  scene  of  bis  death.  In  my  own  opinion,  if  I  may  offer 
one,  derived  from  tbe  internal  evidence  of  the  monument  itself,  I 
am  inclined  to  doubt  tbe  authenticity  of  tbe  epitaph— it  seems 
more  like  an  afterthought  Christian  taunt  to  tbe  dead  persecutor, 
invented  when  the  narrative  of  Suetonius  bad  become  known,  than 
an  idea  likely  to  have  occurred  at  the  time  of  Nero's  decease ; 
moreover,  the  note  which  purports  to  tell  us  where  it  was  found 
is  "  too  particular  by  half,"  and  is  too  plainly  borrowed  from  the 
description  of  Suetonius  to  incline  us  to  credit  it.  This  is  one 
among  many  instances  in  which  doubtful  or  lying  legends,  tacked  • 
on  to  unquestionable  historic  truths,  tend  to  "  destroy  the  value  of 
all  evidence"  at  Rome  ! 

(No.  VII.,  p.  136.) 

I  have  already  (Appendix,  No.  11.,  p.  54)  referred  in  a  general 
way  to  Eustace's  censure  of  the  "  personages"  selected  to  occupy 
the  four  most  conspicuous  niches  in  St.  Peter's,  I  mean  those 
which  are  formed  in  tbe  pillars  which  support  tbe  great  dome, 
and  look  upon  and  guard  the  high  altar.  Of  these  be  plainly  says 
two  are  occupied  by  saints  ("  Veronica"  and  "  Longinus")^  "  whose 
very  names  exist  only  in  legendary  tale"  while  the  third  is  appro- 
priated to  St.  Helena,  chiefly  celebrated  for  "the  invention''  (the 
happily  ambiguous  word)  of  tbe  wood  of  tbe  true  cross,— a  lady 
whom  Eustace,  while  admitting  her  virtue  and  piety,  would  dis- 
miss to  stand  in  tbe  vestibule  of  the  temple  with  her  son  Con- 
stantine ! 

Eustace  refers  still  more  directly  to  St.  Veronica  as  "of  dubious 
origin  and  obscure  namCy  whose  existence  may  be  questioned  by  . 
Tnany,  and  is  unknown  to  most"  This  is  plain  speaking,  from  a  Ro- 
manist. We  must  not  expect,  under  the  growing  influence  of 
ultramontanism,  to  find  many  similar  expressions  of  sense  and 
candour  in  tbe  writings  of  professed  Roman  Catholics  respecting 
accredited  impostures  of  their  Church.  Let  us  respect  and  value 
it  accordingly. 


I 


410 


APPENDIX. 


I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  circumstances  under  which  I  wit- 
nessed the  exposure  of  the  "  Volto  Santo,"  that  relic  of  super- 
eminent  sanctity,  in  which  the  repute,  honour,  the  very  name  and 
existence  of  St.  Veronica  are  wound  up  and  involved. 

We  had  been  hearing  the  service  of  the  Miserere  in  the  Choh* 
Chapel  of  St.  Peter's.  It  was  clear  daylight  when  the  performance 
commenced,  but  as  the  mystic  and  symbolic  candles  were  suc- 
cessively extinguished,  evening  had  gradually  darkened  round 
us,  and  it  was  night  when  we  issued  from  the  chapel  into  the  area 
of  the  great  temple,  and  while  we  had  been  wrapped  up  in  the 
music  within,  the  "Adoration  of  the  Eclics"  had  commenced  in 
the  nave  without. 

Never  can  I  forget  that  scene.  When  my  eyes  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  gloom  of  the  dimly -lighted  church,  I  perceived  that 
the  whole  vast  area  of  the  building  was  paved  with  worshippers,  all 
kneeling,  some  grovelling  in  the  dust,  as  unworthy  to  lift  an  eye 
to  the  holy  objects  presented  to  their  adoration.  In  a  small  bal- 
cony over  the  niche  where  stood  the  statue  of  St.  Veronica  were 
two  or  three  priests,  in  glittering  garments,  surrounded  with 
lights,  and  holding  out  to  those  who  dared  to  look  upwards,  a 
small,  square,  brown  cloth,  which  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  dis- 
tinguish in  the  distance,  and  which  was  very  quickly  carried  back 
to  its  reliquarium  within,  as  an  object  too  sacred  to  be  exposed  to 
general  view  for  more  than  a  minute ;  this  was  the  sudariut,i  of 
St.  Veronica,  of  whom  the  legend — carefully  hidden  in  the  esoteric 
traditions  of  the  early  ages,  but  made  public  when  the  mediaeval 
mind  was  ripe  and  ready  for  marvels — runs  as  follows:  That 
St.Veronica  was  a  Jewess,  one  of  the  weeping  "  daughters  of  Jeru- 
salem," who,  pitying  the  Saviour's  agony  and  toil  as  he  went  bear- 
ing his  cross,  had  wiped  his  face  with  her  handkerchief,  and  was  re- 
warded and  converted  by  finding  the  divine  likeness  {Volto  Santo) 
miraculously  imprinted  in  the  Saviour's  blood  on  the  cloth,  where 
it  continues,  according  to  the  convictions  of  the  devout,  to  this 
present  day,  and  constitutes  the  very  cliief  relic  of  the  rich  reli- 
quarium or  the  high  altar  of  St.  Peter's.  {Nota  hene^  there  is  a 
rival " genuim  and  only'*  Sudarium  preserved  elsewhere,  at,  as  I 
recollect,  Turin!)  ^  ^>-ii^  •*  ^^^t^ 

^   /^     ^CiAir*-    f\t^*  f'     -*»     ^  .,.^^ 


^.//'V^k^Ki!^ 


/ 


APPENDIX. 


4U 


Arringhi,  referring  us  to  many  authorities  ("  gravissimi  scrip- 
tores'*),  of  whom  he  names  "  CJonstantius  Porphyrogenitus,"  "  Me- 
thodius" Bishop  of  Tyre,  and  "Marianus  Scotus,"  reports  the 
story  as  above  written.  Fompilio  Totti,  in  his  "  Roma  Modema^" 
repeats  the  story  thus : 

"  Sacro  santo  Sudario,  dove  Christo  N.  S.  andando  a  consecrarse,  stesso 
nel  Calvario,  voile  col  suo  divino  e  pretiosissimo  sangue,  il  proprio  volto 
imprimere  per  lasciare  in  terra  questo  memoriale  etemo  del  infinito  suo 
amore,  verso  il  genere  humano.  EflSgie  e  reliquia  veramente  pia  d'ogni 
altera  sublime  e  adoranda,  per  esser  non  fatterra  de  mano  angelica,  od 
humana,  e  delineata  con  colori  terreni,  ma  del  fattor  medesimo  degli 
angeli  e  degli  huomini  col  proprio  sangue  miracolosamente." — Eoma 
Modema^  p.  12. 

And  yet  in  the  face  of  this  hyperbolical  language  of  the  pro- 
found adoration  and  venerating  care  with  which  the  supposed 
handkerchief  of  the  supposed  saint  is  preserved,  even  Romish 
writers  have  been  bold  and  honest  enough  to  treat  the  whole  as  a 
modem  invention  founded  on  the  barbarous  name  originally  given 
to  a  pretended  effigy  of  the  Redeemer's  countenance.  Mabillon, 
who  had  the  honesty  to  expose  more  than  one  case  in  which 
"pagans"  and  "publicans"  were  exalted  into  saints  and  martyrs  in 
the  blundering  zeal  of  the  worshippers  of  early  ages,  expressly  says, 

"  Haec  Christi  imago,  a  recentioribus  Veronicas  dicitur — imaginem 
ipsam  veteres  Veronicam  appellabant ;" 

the  truth  being,  that  this  St.  Veronica,  now  set  to  guard  and 
sanctify  a  chief  post  in  St.  Peter's  nave,  was  no  real  person, 
but  has  been  imagined  out  of  a  blundering  application  of  the 
words  "  Vera  Icon,"  or  True  Image,  the  title  inscribed  on,  or 
ascribed  to,  the  handkerchief  when  first  put  forward  as  tlie  like- 
ness of  the  Redeemer !  Well  might  Mr.  Eustace,  or  any  one  else 
who  loved  truth  better  than  a  church  legend,  speak  of  St.  Vero- 
nica as  of  "  dubious  origin  and  questionable  existence."  Nor  does 
the  lance-head  of  Longinus,  with  which  it  is  pretended  that  he 
pierced  the  Saviour's  side  on  the  cross,  and  which  the  Grand 
Turk  Bajazet  is  said  to  have  sent  as  a  present  to  Pope  Inno- 


I 


412 


APPENDIX. 


cent  Vni.,  rest  on  any  better  foundation  as  to  the  reality  of  the 
person  or  thing.  The  fatuity  which  selected  these  "apocryphal" 
personages  to  guard  the  very  penetralia  of  the  chief  Church  of 
the  Papacy,  may  well  be  deemed  judicial. 

(No.  VIII.,  p.  167.) 

Since  the  note  upon  the  "  Pasquinalia"  was  written,  1  have  been 
able  to  obtain  a  copy  of  this  most  scarce,  and  proportionably  costly 
volume,  of  which  all  writers  on  rare  and  curious  books,  from  "  De 
Bure"  to  "  Disraeli,"  have  taken  notice,  and  it  fully  deserves  the 
notice  it  has  obtained.  Daniel  Hensius,  thinking  his  copy  vMique, 
paid  for  it  one  hundred  ducats !  as  for  a  Phoenix !  and  recorded 
his  purchase  in  the  book  itself  in  these  words : 

"Roma  meos  fratres  igni  dedit— unica  Phcenix 
Yivo — aureisque  veneo  centum  Hensio." 

D.  Hensius,  Empt.  Venet.  1614,  13  Marti. 

Rome  burnt  my  brothers— Phoenix-like  I  live — 

Hensius  for  me  one  hundred  lives  did  give. 

R. 

To  give  anything  like  a  description  of  the  contents  of  this  volume 
would,  in  a  note  like  this,  be  impossible.  Many  of  the  pasquils 
are  of  local  allusion,  many  out  of  date,  and  many  of  the  wittiest, 
and  those  most  illustrative  of  the  mind  and  morals  of  the  time, 
unproducible  from  their  indecency.  The  Borgias,  tlirough  all  their 
branches  and  crimes,  arc,  as  may  be  supposed,  a  staring  mark  for 
Pasquin's  arrows ;  Clement  VII.  and  Leo  X.  have  their  fair  or 
foul  share  of  notice.  The  volume  also  contains  "  Sortes  Virgi- 
lianse,"  the  point  of  some  of  which  is  admirable ;  that  drawn  for 
Erasmus,  neither  zealous  Papist  nor  open  Protestant,  is  very  happy : 
"  Terras  inter  ccelumque  volabat." 


All  come  in  for  their  turn.    The  Pope,  meddling  with  "affairs  of 
kings  and  kingdoms,"  is  thus  rebuked : 

"  Pastorem  Tityre  pingues 
Pascere  oportet  oves ;" 


APPENDIX. 


413 


the  dulness  of  the  Sorbonne  at  Paris  obtains  this  inscription : 
"  Umbrarum  hie  locus  est,  somni  noctis  que  profundae ;" 

while  the  eighth  Henry  of  England,  on  one  occasion,  draws  as  his 
lot 

**  Jura  negat  sibi  nata  ;'* 

and  on  another,  either  on  the  occasion  of  liis  "  seeing  Gospel  light 
in  Anna  Boleyn's  eyes,"  or  of  some  other  of  his  numerous  mar- 
riages, he  gets 

"  Conjugium  vocat— hoc  prastexit  nomine  culpam." 

On  the  whole,  a  selection  from  this  volume  might  be  as  well  worth 
a  reprint  by  some  of  our  archseologic  societies  as  many  others 
which  their  labours  have  called  out  of  the  land  of  forgetfulness.  In 
order  to  show  the  kind  of  "  paper  pellets"  with  which  the  wicked 
wit  of  Rome  used  to  pelt  the  Power  which  it  nevertheless  con- 
tinued, in  a  strange  blindness,  to  acknowledge  as  "  Christ's  Vicar 
UPON  Earth  !"  I  select  the  following  series  of  remarkable  con- 
trasts : 

Antithesis  Christi  et  Pontificis, 
per  Pasquinam,  torn.  i.  p.  27. 

"  Christus  regna  fugit — Sed  vi  Papa  subjugat  urbem. 
Spinosam  Christus — Triplicera  gerit  ille  coronam. 
Abluit  ille  pedes — Regis  his  oscula  praebent. 
Vectigal  solvit — Sed  clerum  hie  eximit  omnem. 
Pavit  oves  Christus — Luxum  hie  sectatur  inertem. 
Pauper  erat  Christus — Regna  hie  petit  omnia  mundi. 
Bajulat  ille  crucem— Hie  servis  portatur  avaris. 
Spemit  opes  Christus — Auri  hie  ardore  tabescit. 
Vendentes  pepulit  templo — Quos  suscepit  iste. 
Pace  venit  Christus — Venit  hie  radiantibus  armis. 
Christus  mansuetus  venit — Venit  ille  superbus. 
Quos  leges  dedit  hie — Prajsul  dissolvit  iniquus. 
Ascendit  Christus — Descendit  ad  infera  Praesul." 

"  Not  of  this  world,"  said  Christ — Which  Popes  claim  all. 
On  Chrises  brow  thorns— On  Pope's  tiaras  fall. 


I 

II, 

ii 


414  APPENDIX. 

Chrisi  washed  men*s  feet — Kings  kiss  the  Pope's  on  knee. 

Christ  tribute  paid—The  Pope  makes  priests  "scot-free." 

Christ  fed  his  sheep — In  luxury  Popes  feed. 

The  Christ  lived  poor — Insatiate  the  Pope's  greed. 

Christ  bore  his  cross— Of  serfs  the  Pope  is  borne. 

Christ  spurned  at  gold— By  av'rice  Popes  are  torn. 

Christ  scourged  out  barterers — Whom  Popes  invite. 

Peace-giving  Christ  came — Popes  come  armed  for  fight. 

Christ  came  in  meekness— Popes  with  haughty  brow. 

All  Christ-made  laws — Pope's  edicts  disallow. 

Christ  reascended —  Where  be  dead  Popes  now  ? 

R. 

(No.  IX.,  p.  194.) 

Arringhi  tells  this  story  with  true  florid  Italian  amplification  : 
how  the  abbot  and  his  companions  wandered  about  until  their 
tapers  were  reduced  to  a  half-finger*s  length — "  tunc  ut  poeta  aitt* 
^^gelidus  que  per  ima  cucurrit  ossa  tremor^' — the  crisis  "  sancto 
vindice  dignui'  was  come, — and  Abbot  Crescentius  bethinks  him- 
self of  invoking  God  through  the  merits  o/'— the  Saviour  ?  some 
would  say — not  at  all !  but  through  the  merits  of  St.  Philip  Neri ! 
— the  rest  must  be  told  in  the  "ipsissima  verba'^  of  Arringhi : 

"Abbas  quippe  bonam  vel  desperatis  inde  rebus  spem  concipiens, 
his  verbis  socios  alloquitur.  Quorsum  animos  o  socii  despondimus,  Deo 
fidamus,  ipse  enim  viam  errantibus  monstrabit,  imanimes  fundamus  ei 
preces,  siihnixi  meritis,  Beati  PhUippi  Nerii,  et  protinus  nobis,  ut  spero 
auxUium  presto  erit.  Vix  ea — se  humi  omnes  projiciunt,  orant,  invocant 
eidemque  cujus  patrocinio  Jidebant,  vitam  jam  cum  via  deperditam  enixe 
commendant.  ffaud  spefrustrari passus  est  suorum preces  heatus  Philippus, 
nam  brevissimo  temporis  intervallo  vix  elapso,  res  mira,  ipsummet 
foramen — per  quod  aditus  primum  illis  patuerat,  prompta  manu  ofFen- 
dunt,  et  inde  quasi  e  profundo  pelagi  sinu  ac  portum  e  tenebris  in  lucem 
salvi  atque  incolumes  emergunt  postquam  integro  septem  horarum 
spatio  (quod  incredibile  dictu  est  ?)  defessi  in  incertum  perambulaverunt." 
— Abringhi,  Bom.  Subter,  torn.  iL  cap.  28,  sec.  22. 

I  have  given  the  original  at  length,  in  order  that  the  reader  may 
see  how  completely  and  practically  the  saint  supersedes  the  Sa- 


h 


APPENDIX. 


415 


viour  God,  both  in  the  transaction  of  the  rescue,  and  in  the  esti- 
mation of  the  rescued  wanderers,  whose  first  consistent  step  in 
daylight  was  to  betake  themselves,  weary  and  hungry  as  they  were, 
to  pay  their  vows  at  St.  Philip's  chapel  {ejusdem  beati  Philippi 
sacellum  adeunty  ibiqtce  gratiarum  vota  persolvant) ;  and  the  con- 
clusion is  also  suitable,  for  it  is  to  the  saint  they  inscribe  their 
"  votive  tablet,"  dedicated  on  the  occasion  "  Votivam  ex  argento 
tabellam,  ejtcsdem  sejpulchro  ad  perjpetuam  rei  monumentum  Abbas 
appendit.^^ 


>  .^' 


»    theolog; 


■■-■:'¥rNARY 


THE   END. 


C.  WHITING,  BEAUFORT  HOUSE,  STRAND. 


<7 


cr 


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9f5.0l 


R78Z 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 


010677089 


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——■MlilW.-. 

DEF^1946 


